


for your love all you are (i'd start a riot)

by chasingwildlife



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, F/M, Slow Burn, a little political, eleven has her powers, hopper only makes a cameo sorry guys, no one is related in this btw, sort of not really dystopian future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-02-15 07:26:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 45,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13026138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingwildlife/pseuds/chasingwildlife
Summary: In a corrupt society where poverty and ignorance prevail, a vengeful girl joins a revolutionary group with a mission to dismantle the pillars of the government. Amongst the group is an intriguing boy who may just introduce her to an unfamiliar world of compassion, hope and love as civilization collapses around them.Their journey together proves to be legendary.(summary changed 5/19/2018)





	1. follow me into the jungle

**Author's Note:**

> main title is from 'start a riot' by banners. the song kinda sets the mood for me for this whole thing so i'd recommend a listen. i have a feeling this fic won't be everyone's cup of tea, but that's fine. this first chapter is kind of a teaser, as i'm still working on this thing and i don't want to really start posting it until it's closer to being done, but i'd like to see if people are at all interested in it right off the bat. unfortunately, it doesn't help that the initial real mileven scene is in the second chapter lol. anyway, if you read this, please let me know what you think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from 'jungle' by the x ambassadors.

_Revolutions are about pulling the pillars of power from underneath the state one by one until it falls._

That was the slogan they followed. In fact, it was more than the slogan, it was the mission statement. It said it all in the kitschy little pamphlet Max had given her in preparation for the meeting. She agreed, of course, that this society was unliveable, that the government was corrupt, and the people needed to take the power back. But pamphlets? What was cheesier than that?

Either way, she was going, thanks to her best friend. She was going to be the secret weapon, Max said. She wasn’t sure about the dehumanization of the statement, but she understood the metaphor, and she felt intrigued enough by the whole thing to let it slide.

The meeting place was cliché; that old abandoned warehouse every other revolutionary group met at. She sighed, beginning to believe this would be a bunch of kids, interested only in complaining about the state of the country and doing nothing real about it. Words have power, sure, but when they’re only shared secretly in the presence of a select few, don’t they lose that influence?

She tugged open the door, creaking as it moved, and stepped into the darkness within the building. She saw a weak light somewhere further in and moved carefully towards it, her hands jutting out in preparation to run into something. But it was a clear path, and soon she found herself on the outskirts of a large circle of people, chatting amongst one another in cheap, plastic white chairs. They quieted upon the entrance of a stranger and turned in their seats to look at her. She couldn’t see Max’s tawny hair, so she must not have arrived yet.

They all looked young, their ages probably spanning from twenty to thirty. There were more boys than girls which was unfortunate and, as far as she could tell, they were mostly white. She was definitely an advocate for diversity and representation, so she was mildly disappointed in the lack thereof in this group. If she were to recruit more people into the organization in the future, she would want to pursue individuals from all different walks of life.

She awkwardly waved, taking it upon herself to introduce herself. “Hi, I’m Ja-,”

“No,” someone interrupted her. He sat across from where she stood, his arm hanging casually over the back of his chair and his legs spread out lazily wide before him. But his face was serious and cold. “Your name is Eleven. From now on, that is all you are to refer to yourself as. Even outside of this circle.”

She stood there in shocked silence. She’d only been there for half a minute and she already had a new identity to get used to. She felt anxiety building in her chest, wondering if she knew what she’d truly signed up for. She fought past it, remembering she wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything. She was more powerful than anyone sitting in that room.

“Why Eleven?” she asked, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“Simple,” he responded with a smirk, well-developed laugh lines popping up on his cheeks. “You’re the eleventh member.”

“So, you all have code names too?” she asked, glancing around the group of people.

“No,” a boy responded with a snort, his smile wide and contagious. “You’re special. Since you’re going to be so integral to our projects, it’s important that your identity is even better protected than ours.”

She gulped, the danger of being involved in such a thing finally making itself recognizable. She was so excited to join and change the world, she had forgotten doing so would make her a criminal, and getting caught would result in prison, or worse. Probably worse.

“Don’t worry,” another voice sounded out. His face was gentle, despite the pronounced cheekbones and sharp jawline. He looked at her and she could see he was someone who could always find good in the world. An optimist. “Nothing’s happened so far, we haven’t lost anyone yet. Everyone here will have your back too.”

“Emphasis on the ‘yet,’” she muttered, she couldn’t help but joke. It was like a coping mechanism for stress, she supposed. The boy with the big smile snickered at her, which made her feel a little more comfortable.

Max walked in behind her, a hand falling on the small of her back as a show of support.

“Are you guys already scaring her away?” she scolded, frowning at the group as she grabbed Ja- _Eleven’s_ hand and escorted her towards a pair of empty seats between the optimist and a girl with short, ginger hair who carried herself with apprehension.

“If she’s scared, she shouldn’t be here,” the serious man scoffed.

“Oh, quit it, Steve. This girl is one of the bravest people I know – you have no idea of what she’s capable of,” Max argued, leaning back in her seat with a smug grin.

“Speaking of which,” a new voice spoke, belonging to another girl. She was beautiful in a simple and soft kind of way. “Maybe she should _show_ us what she’s capable of.”

“Hold your horses, Nancy,” Max responded. “I think she should get to meet all of you first.”

“Fine, but she must prove herself before we discuss anything concrete,” Steve concurred, his tone still unwelcoming. “I’m Steve, the founder of the Party.”

“You call yourselves the Party?” Eleven questioned, frowning. “That doesn’t sound very fitting.”

“Not like a party as in a celebration, a party as in a _team_ ,” Steve growled with annoyance, rolling his eyes. “We all have our roles to play.”

Eleven nodded in understanding, choosing to ignore his abrasive attitude. She took comfort in knowing she could get anyone to regret talking down to her at any given time.

“This is Jonathan, he’s a genius underneath all of the social ineptness.” Steve motioned to the man next to him, his eyes downcast in shyness, his back hunched over as he closed in on himself.

“That there is Billy,” he continued, pointing to a man with a retro mullet, a sparse mustache on his lips, and arrogant eyes. “Ignore him at all times, he’s a dick.”

“Hey!” Billy protested, glaring at the founder.

“I’m Nancy,” the simple and soft girl said with a friendly smile.

Next to her was was Lucas, his arms crossed and his face calculating, then Dustin, the boy with the contagious smile, then Will, sporting a bowl cut and wide eyes, and Barb, the other ginger girl with a freckled face sitting beside Eleven. Finally, next to Max, was Mike, the optimist with pretty, pink lips.

“Now that’s over, shall we?” Steve lifted an eyebrow in a challenging manner, looking at Eleven expectantly.

She held the eye contact, refusing to back down to any intimidation tactics.

“There’s a junkyard near here, right?” Eleven asked, standing up and turning to leave the building, not bothering to see if anyone would follow her. She heard the scuffling of the chairs, however, and felt a tinge of excitement in the air reverberating from her potentially new teammates.

~ ~ ~

The lifeless junkyard was full of both boring antiquities and curious wonders; broken down appliances familiar to most family homes, crusty, old furniture missing legs and springs, and then the very few remains of technology. There were a couple hidden parts of radios, miscellaneous wiring, scattered glass of smashed television screens, and pieces of silver vaguely resembling microchips.

It was a treasure hunt for the past, an attempt by the government to snuff out advanced technology from the minds of the public after banning it all from general use. Thirty years ago, digital devices were seized from the hands of the people; telephones, radios, televisions, computers. The basic electronics – refrigerators, stoves, lightbulbs, and microwaves were permitted only due to a last-minute decision argued by one of the more benevolent politicians in power. Leaders claimed the technology to be ‘dangerous’ to the public, but social media and the constant access to information and knowledge was only dangerous to those in charge. It had allowed the public to exchange ideas, to analyze governmental decisions and the politicians involved in them as much as they so pleased. It made organizing protests and movements easier. It made manipulating and controlling citizens harder.

Eleven scanned the hunks of trash filling the area, the group of ten behind her, watching in anticipation. Without looking, she could tell Max was already looking prideful, a grin dancing on her lips.

“That old couch,” she announced, pointing to the right side of the yard at a pile of debris topped by a torn and worn soda. “Who wants to see it fly?”

Without waiting for an answer, she held her hand out towards it and gently focused on the item, almost effortlessly lifting the couch from the pile with her mind, raising it into the sky and making it twirl above their heads. She had it do a lap around the junkyard and then unceremoniously dropped it with a heavy thud in the center of the yard.

She turned around to find at least a half dozen gaping mouths and bulging eyes, staring at her like she was otherworldly. She never got to show off these special abilities, so she had to fight down the pride and pleasure swelling in her stomach. She wanted to come off as confident and self-assured; she didn’t need anyone to tell her she was amazing because she already knew she was.

“Alright.” Steve was the first to recover from the shock of the scene before him, his hands attached firmly to his hips. “Impressive, but can you do anything with people? You’ll probably end up in a combative position and if you don’t need to use weapons that could help things go more smoothly.”

She noticed how he had already toned down the condescending and aloof attitude, obviously realizing and believing she had great value to his organization.

“I can manipulate anything of matter. So, I can throw people across rooms, break their necks, mess with internal organs, whatever suits the situation,” she responded nonchalantly. She hadn’t as much experience with such things, but enough to know she was easily capable.

When Steve was silent, likely deciding whether he wanted to believe her without proof of it, she rolled her eyes.

“I imagine no one here is interested in volunteering to be my test dummy so you’re just going to have to take me for my word on that,” she added, quirking an eyebrow.

Steve cleared his throat, realizing she was right. He looked at her, sizing her up one more time and Eleven stood tall, refusing to cave under his measuring gaze.

“Okay.” He nodded, glancing at Max. “She’s in.”

~ ~ ~

“What are the pillars that a capitalist government relies on to keep its power? The tactics used to keep its citizens quiet and unable to regain their voices in the decisions and the running of the country?” Steve paced around the center of the circle, his gaze passing from person to person in his audience.

The actual meeting had commenced with Steve being the first to speak. The social dynamics of the group had been outlined in the information pamphlet, discussing that Steve was technically the leader, but everyone had the opportunity to make proposals and to lead discussions. Decisions were consensus based, nothing was final until things were altered to fit everyone’s opinions and make everyone comfortable with the conclusion. And while Steve was the founder, he still participated equally in the physical and mental demands of any pursued project alongside everyone else rather than sitting back and delegating others.

So far, Steve only seemed a little preachy.

“Propaganda,” Jonathan offered. It was the first time Eleven heard him speak but he still kept his eyes on the floor and his posture remained rigid. “By idealizing specific beliefs and values, they demean others. Questioning the government is inappropriate, protesting is unpatriotic, and believing you know better than politicians is irrational. Even if a person is unhappy about their life and this society, they’re convinced that there is no chance of changing it.”

He seemed well versed in talking about the subject, despite the lowness and uncertainty of his voice.

“They control money,” Nancy added. Eleven liked that she was confident in her knowledge, despite being surrounded by so many guys. She too often saw women struggle with feeling underestimated and undervalued by men. “They own banks, so they can make money and inflate prices. They keep the average annual income on the lower end while the value of housing and basic necessities is falsely driven up. They encourage opposition to taxation so that health care and education are not easily attainable. They keep the public poor and sick and ignorant so that they stay rich.”

Eleven was starting to feel right at home. Despite the overall calmness of the voices around her, she could feel something burning in the room; an untapped fury growing, close to bursting, waiting to be released. It was an anger familiar to her, something she dealt with everyday as she worked a job she hated and still struggled to make ends meet, as she saw people suffering on the street, as no one stood up for those in need. She was ready for change and she was ready to be one of the people to make it happen.

“Violence.” Billy spoke up, his eyes glazing over, hinting that his past was coming to mind. “This is a police state. People are killed for bullshit reasons. Countless unarmed people have been murdered, their deaths barely justified, but police officers are painted as heroes by the government so people believe they can do no wrong. Peaceful protesters are pepper-sprayed, and officers sic their dogs on them as if it’s hunting season. And then newspapers and politicians make it sound like the victims are to blame for it. The public is intimidated and threatened by the uncalled-for deaths of others into silence and obedience.”

As Eleven watched him speak, she sensed the words were coming from a personal place. The way his eyes hardly moved, hardly blinked indicated he was somewhere far away and it almost looked as though a disembodied spirit was speaking through him. She imagined everyone here must have a story that induced enough pain or anger to propel them towards joining this group.

“I agree that those are three big ones.” Steve nodded thoughtfully once Billy finished talking. “Does anyone have anything else to add?”

The room was silent, everyone probably feeling satisfied with the examples that had already been brought up. Eleven did not have enough practice with such a discussion to feel comfortable contributing anything for this first meeting but she was already eager to be able to.

“Technology,” someone mentioned quietly, seemingly uncertain. It was Mike, sitting a couple chairs over from Eleven. “The government took technology from the people because they were getting too smart. Telephones and radios made communication easier, computers made information widely available. Taking technology put people back in the dark, it keeps them divided and unorganized. The journalists we rely on to keep us updated on the state of affairs of the world could be easily influenced to present every decision made as the right one. This way, we’re isolated in ignorance.”

“Perfect.” Steve smiled, finding the answer he was looking for. “Thanks, Mike.”

Mike nodded shyly and leant back in his chair, the faintest blush on his cheeks. Eleven figured he didn’t speak up too often in meetings. The people who appeared older seemed to speak the most, probably due to a larger amount of education and experience. Mike suddenly looked directly at her, and she glanced away, feeling embarrassed for staring.

“We know we have to tackle each of those pillars to dismantle this society. Right now, I want to focus on technology,” Steve began, and Eleven saw the wave of intrigue wash over the people of the circle. “We’re taking it back from them.”

~ ~ ~

Steve had a plan. He was determined to get them a radio so that they could listen in on the police and maybe the government, but more so the police, so that for future projects involving criminal activity they could know how long they had to evacuate the scene of the crime. He had an insider called Mr. Clarke who worked in a radio assembly factory. The workers there never had access to the final stage of assembly, so Mr. Clarke would be secretly collecting individual parts for them to be put together later.

“His identity is completely anonymous,” Steve had mentioned, “his name is made up. Just so that if anyone decides to leave the Party, they will be unable to identify him to the authorities.”

Mike was the person assigned to prepare to assemble the radio; his grandfather had left him many books of designs of radios and many other electronics. Everyone else would be taking turns to pick up the radio parts from various locations to avoid any suspicion. Besides awaiting her scheduled day to retrieve the electronic pieces, there wasn’t much to do. Eleven couldn’t imagine the anxiety ‘Mr. Clarke’ felt when stealing tiny parts from the conveyor belt, or the adrenaline of placing them in his pocket and leaving the building at the end of the day. But for some reason, she was craving it. Something to get her blood pumping and her head rushing.

“So,” Max drawled, bumping into her side as they walked home after the meeting was dismissed. “What did you think?”

“I don’t know.” Eleven shrugged. “I liked everything they talked about. They seem nice. Mostly.”

“Right?” Max grinned. “I feel like I’m in my element when I’m there.”

“But have they done anything to stop the things they complain about?” Eleven inquired, frowning.

“Well, Steve’s only really been bringing everyone together for about a month,” Max explained, then looked at her slyly. “But now that you’re with us, I think he’s ready to really get the gears turning.”

“I’m honoured.” Eleven dead-panned, returning the look.

Max snickered, “oh, come on, Jane.”

“Careful.” She nudged Max with a scowl. “You have to call me ‘Eleven’ now, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Max cringed. “I knew you would hate that.”

“You knew and didn’t tell me?” Eleven scoffed, feeling betrayed.

“Please, if I were the one to tell you, you would have chewed my head off and refused,” Max insisted.

“You’re probably right,” Eleven admitted, Max laughing in response.

They strolled in silence, ignoring the dreariness of the world around them. They were close to the outskirts of the city, far from downtown where people in their small world of success and happiness and clothes and hairstyles and smiles that represented those very qualities stalked the lit streets and government buildings stood tall and strong. Here, instead, one found crumbling buildings, grey concrete galore, the homeless wandering the street with all their belongings on their backs. It usually made Eleven feel helpless and miserable, but now there was hope dawning on her.

Eventually they came to the intersection where they would part ways to head home. They hugged to say goodbye, but Max kept her grip on her friend’s arm afterward with a mischievous smile.

“I meant to ask,” she smirked. “Did you meet anyone you _liked_?”

“Oh my god,” Eleven complained, smiling. “That’s all you care about!”

“It is not,” Max protested, “joining clubs is just a great way to meet people with similar interests. Plus, if I didn’t care about your love life, you would be alone your whole life.”

“That doesn’t sound that bad to me,” Eleven joked. Max saw through the façade, but she let it go for today.

“Alright,” Max sighed. “See you tomorrow?”

“Eight am sharp,” Eleven replied. They worked together as waitresses at Benny’s Burgers, serving breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Neither of them liked it, and they often had to work extra hours to make rent happen. The plan was to move in together soon so that life would be more affordable, but it was difficult to find an apartment at a reasonable price. Nothing was a reasonable price anymore.

They parted ways and Eleven started off to her apartment. It wasn’t too far, but she still hated walking the street alone. There were a lot of desperate people in need of quick cash, and sometimes they took to violent means to get it. Such as mugging someone vulnerable in the dark. Luckily for Eleven, she didn’t have to be afraid. But her friends, like Max, must be. She felt more scared for them than herself.

She made it home without any obstacles, and quickly settled in to her tiny, broken down apartment for the night. The mattress of her bed was old and tough, her refrigerator kept itself cold only half of the time, and the heater kept the room warm none of the time. It was alright though, Eleven had never experienced much luxury in her life, and she wouldn’t mind keeping it that way. There were more important things to worry about than the material side of things.

She fell asleep thinking of the Party and all the different people she met today and all the things she’d already learned. She thought of the future the members of the organization were hoping for. Eleven wasn’t sure of what her own utopia might look like, all she could think about was destroying the system in place. She didn’t care what happened afterwards. She was fueled by revenge and wanted to watch the world burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this chapter is mostly just political mumbo jumbo but majority of this fic actually does end up being about mileven, don't worry lol.
> 
> leave a kudos if u liked it and let me know what u think :)


	2. in a pitch black world, anything goes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is from 'dead of night' by ruelle. 
> 
> so i've decided i'll be updating this fic weekly for now. thanks to everyone who commented nice things, they were very motivational for me!
> 
> i just wanna mention a couple of things. first off, since this fic is politically charged, people are welcome to engage in political discourse in the comments if they would like so long as they are polite and respectful. additionally if anyone is really interested in some of the political topics explored in this fic, my tumblr (chasingwildlife) partially revolves around the opinions my characters express, so feel free to follow. second, just so people know, all of the main characters in this have entirely different origin stories from what is canon, because i am incapable of incorporating anything canon into my stories lol. third, i'm not sure what exactly constitutes a slow build, but i'm pretty sure this fic falls under that descriptor, so you may have to be patient at times. 
> 
> anyway, sorry for the long note. some aspects of this story are funny to me now because of the whole net neutrality thing because these people are obviously being oppressed by having technology limited and taken away from them. hmmm. lol thanks for reading.

It was a week later, the Party was gathered in its usual spot, and Eleven was attending her second meeting. Later that evening, it would be her turn to collect some parts for the radio. She was looking forward to the thrill of the secrecy, the adrenaline from the possibility of being caught, the ecstasy of playing a part in the collapse of the state. She could hardly contain her excitement during the gathering as it bubbled desperately inside of her.

“Mike,” Steve spoke once everyone had settled. “I know you’ve only received a few parts so far, but have we made any progress?’

Mike frowned, fidgeting in his seat. “Not really. I’ll need a lot more parts to even figure out what model of radio it is. It might not even be one I have a manual for, so I may end up having to do some improvising.”

Steve sighed and nodded. “Okay, I understand.”

Eleven saw Mike shrink lower in his seat, clearly embarrassed that he hadn’t impressed the founder even though none of it was his fault. Steve should be immensely grateful in the first place that he had someone who had some knowledge of technology despite having no real experience with it.

“Alright, today I want to talk about some recent events.” Steve moved on. “Thanks to one of the very few honest journalists, we know now that our president will be eliminating the federal agency that funds museums and libraries. Without that financial support, we’re probably going to see many museums and libraries abandoned. What is the purpose of this?”

“Restriction of knowledge,” Barb replied first. She answered so fast, Eleven knew she had explored the topic before. Barb didn’t speak very much but anyone could tell she was smart. “If citizens are less educated, it gives the government an advantage over them. A lack of access to history also helps so people don’t recognize any similarities between our modern democracy and dictatorships of the past. Inability to learn about other cultures and styles of governing makes this society’s way the only way.”

“The presidential administration likes to pretend they don’t believe in censorship,” Max claimed from beside Eleven with her usual sneer that she attained whenever talking about the government. “But limiting access to resources and therefore different opinions and self-expression, isn’t that what censorship is?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Nancy disagreed, and the two began to discuss the meanings of censorship and the freedom of speech.

The members enjoyed healthy debate in the Party, in fact, they welcomed it. They would only become hypocrites if they believed they were right about or knew everything. Eleven had to admit as well that they could be entertaining. She was learning more and more about her teammates, like how Jonathan would only look up from his constant scowl when Nancy was speaking. Or how Will was the youngest of them all and the one person she would least expect to find in a place like this. She was still trying to figure out just how she fit in, however.

“Nancy, Max is right,” Lucas the brooder surprisingly spoke up. It would have been impossible for Eleven not to notice how Max’s face flushed red when Lucas voiced his support. She tried not to gape or show her confusion at her friend’s reaction. Max never blushed.

“But Lucas, don’t you think people like the alt-right would argue the same thing as Max?” Nancy raised an eyebrow and gestured towards the redhead. “In order to keep preaching their hate?”

“That’s not an issue of censorship anymore that’s an issue of tolerance. The alt-right can claim that they have the right to express their opinions, but it doesn’t mean they won’t face consequences for the bullshit they spew,” Lucas replied, his arms folded stubbornly over his chest.

Nancy mulled that over in silence, then surrendered. “Okay. Fair enough.”

“I would consider the stuff those people say to be hate speech anyway, which should probably be an exception to the right of freedom of speech in the first place,” Mike mentioned, shrugging as he brought another perspective to the discussion.

“That’s a motion I can get behind,” Dustin chuckled. He never seemed to be serious during discussions, but sometimes his lightness of tone was refreshing and cleansed the room of any lingering tension.

With that, the room quieted and Steve stood from his post of observation at the north end of the circle.

“I don’t have anything else to share today, so consider the floor open for any announcements or discussion points anyone else would like to make,” Steve declared, doing a little spin around as he tried to make eye contact with everyone before returning to his seat.

Will, the quietest of all, stood, and Eleven raised her eyebrows in surprise and anticipation.

“Uh, well, Lucas and I have organized a protest at the library this Saturday to stand against the selfish choice of the government to essentially defund it. Anyone is welcome to join us,” he announced, wringing his hands together.

Max lightly elbowed Eleven’s side to get her attention and nodded excitedly, insinuating that they should attend the event. They had somehow both managed to get the Saturday off, and Eleven had planned on spending the day trying to fix her leaking sink and catch up on some reading, but a protest sounded like a much more productive and satisfying activity. She had a feeling, however, that Max was more inclined to go due to the guaranteed presence of a certain man with a wide nose and mouth and an endless scowl on his face.

“If that’s everything, I guess this meeting is dismissed. See you guys this time next week.” Steve muttered with a small attempt at a smile. He seemed removed and distant that day. Maybe he was busy scheming for his next mission proposal.

As everyone rose from their chairs, some chattering amongst each other as they prepared to disperse, Steve approached Eleven.

“Hey, Eleven, you remember all the instructions for this evening?” he asked in less of an intimidating way and more of a considerate one.

“Yeah, I think so, Steve,” she assured him as they were simple and straightforward. The directions to the pick-up location were a little vague but she would figure it out, she was smart enough.

“Great.” He nodded, crossing his arms contemplatively. “And you can just drop the bag off in our little office down the hall, okay?”

“If you want, sure.” She shrugged. She figured he was trying to make sure she wasn’t nervous or uncertain about what she had to do. In her mind, she didn’t find it frightening, if anything, she was excited.

“Cool, sounds good.” He seemed pleased with her calm demeanor and satisfied with her answers. She hoped he was beginning to see her as a valuable member to the team for qualities other than her supernatural talents.

Eleven and Max left soon afterward, walking together again. The weather was beginning to chill, the air becoming brisk and sharp and the few plants in the city shedding their greenness. They both tucked their chins into the collars of their coats, but Eleven stared at Max inquisitively. The freckled girl caught on quickly.

“What are you looking at?” She demanded with a nervous laugh.

“You like Lucas,” Eleven stated boldly, almost accusatory.

“What?” Max stuttered and looked away, blood already pooling into her cheeks. “I do not.”

“Then why do you want to go to the protest on Saturday? You’ve been going on and on about being able to be lazy and do nothing all day for the last week,” Eleven insisted, looking at her as though her attraction to Lucas was obvious. Because it was.

They stared at each other for a moment, challengingly. They had paused on the sidewalk, and Eleven wasn’t planning on resuming their walk until she heard Max admit it. Finally, she sighed.

“Fine, okay,” she muttered, her voice quiet. “I like Lucas.”

Eleven smirked triumphantly and Max rolled her eyes. They turned and started moving again in synchronization.

“He’s cute, is all,” Max said.

“Yeah, but he seems like a bit of a Debbie Downer,” Eleven remarked.

“Says you of all people,” Max joked and Eleven grinned and nodded in agreement. “He can be a bit of a grump, but he can also be pretty sweet and nice.”

“How would you know that?” Eleven’s eyebrows came together in confusion.

“The first little meeting Steve held was just Lucas, Steve, Jonathan, and I, and afterwards, Lucas offered to walk me home. Considering, you know, how it can be out here in the dark. Before your first day, he walked me home after every meeting. We got to know each other a little, I guess,” Max explained, a shy smile gracing her face as she spoke of him. Realization dawned on Eleven.

“That’s why he’s always defending you in discussions and stuff,” she said, the puzzle pieces coming together. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well until I knew you were willing to join the Party, I was keeping all of it a secret, right? Afterwards, I guess I didn’t know how to bring it up,” Max said, looking a little guilty.

“You know, he can still walk you home. I’m fine on my own,” Eleven suggested. “We spend enough time together anyway.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Max laughed and Eleven mocked consideration of her accusation.

“Maybe a little,” Eleven replied blatantly. Max knocked her hip against her friend, causing her to stumble a little to the side.

“I guess he might like to join us sometimes,” Max admitted afterwards, contemplating it.

“Oh no.” Eleven shook her head, snubbing that idea. “I refuse to be a third wheel. Just walk with him, you know you want to.”

“Yeah, he’s much better company than you are anyway.” Max grinned at her with that playful glint in her eyes and Eleven had one of those moments where she remembered all at once just how much she loved her best friend.

She gave her a light punch on the arm in retaliation before hooking their arms together and marching down the street, laughing the whole way.

~ ~ ~

Twilight had descended quickly, blanketing the city in an ambiguous darkness. Many streetlights had burned out over time, and it often took months for someone to come along to replace the bulbs. Some of them, it seemed, had been given up on altogether.

Outside her window, Eleven watched the few remaining people outside hurry to their homes, carrying small bags of food from the market, probably just enough to get through the next day. She never saw children past mid-afternoon once school had let out. None of them played outside anymore; they either had to work to help keep their family afloat, or their mothers and fathers deemed it too dangerous to allow.

Once the streets were quiet and bare as far as she could tell with the little light she had, she slipped stealthily out of her apartment and onto the concrete. Immediately, she felt the beat of her heart accelerate, blood pulsing in her fingertips.

She had to walk awhile, passing the warehouse and the junkyard. She avoided eye contact with the hoards of people gathered around a crackling fire, probably trying to desperately to ignore the emptiness of their stomachs and pockets. She had to sidestep an old woman begging for food, money, anything. Eleven did not have much she could afford to give. She tried to make herself feel better by remembering that she was going to change this city. All of it, for good.

Finally, she reached the brick wall Steve had described to her. A rusty red brick with its colour fading, cracks forming and corners decaying. It was the walls of what had been a general store, but the owners had abandoned it and left it to deteriorate amidst the wreckage of the economy.

She ran a hand along it as she walked, waiting until she felt a brick give beneath her fingers. Pausing, she looked around for any passersby. Seeing none, she gripped the brick and easily pulled it from its cavity, revealing a dark velvet pouch tucked carefully inside. Her heart leapt to her throat as she snatched the pouch quickly from its hiding place, stuffing it hurriedly into the purse she had brought along. She returned the brick to its home and briskly strode away in the opposite direction.

As she headed towards the warehouse to drop off the goods, she felt the pouch weighing heavily in her bag. She didn’t think there was much inside it, so it was likely that the weight she felt was all her imagination. A figment of the natural anxiety that stemmed from participating in illegal activity. It was her small part, her small contribution to the larger task at hand and she was feeling helpful. She was feeling powerful.

She reached the Party headquarters and walked into the dark space, her mind itching to activate the lights, before realizing they were already on. At first, she was confused. And then, slightly terrified. Not of whoever was lurking in the depths of the building but the possibility that the Party had been discovered and was about to be dismantled. Plus, she was carrying some very illegal radio parts that she could personally be prosecuted for. She crept silently forward, unsure of what she would do when she encountered the visitor, but pushing ahead nonetheless.

She passed the large meeting area, the chairs still assembled in their circle, and entered the hallway, heading towards the slightly ajar door on the right where she imagined the office to be. A shard of light was shining through the crack. She could hear some rustling of papers, and the clicking of a pen and her unease only grew. She would have to deal with this intruder accordingly but what if they had technology; a phone to call for backup or a special camera to record her secretly and pass on her image. If she didn’t do anything though, the Party would think her a coward and her status she thought she had developed with Steve would disintegrate. With a sharp breath in, she slammed the door open telekinetically and stepped forward, preparing to face the enemy.

Sitting at the desk, in front of a mess of papers and books, was Mike. His mouth dropped open in surprise, his eyes bulging, one hand frozen mid-scratch in his hair and the other glued to his chest, over his heart. She had a sudden thought that he looked like a monkey, and then realized her mistake.

“Fuck, sorry,” she apologized but mostly felt a surge of relief. She also wanted to laugh a little at herself for letting her thoughts tumble downhill at such a rapid rate before feeling certain that she was in danger.

“Um, it’s okay,” Mike replied, his mouth moving but the rest of him still frozen. He was obviously struck with shock and needed a minute to recuperate.

“I thought that maybe someone broke in or that a police officer was here or something,” Eleven tried to explain, but she could feel herself coming off as a paranoid idiot.

“Oh.” Mike blinked. “Yeah, it’s just me.”

Eleven stood there awkwardly for a moment before reaching for the pouch in her bag and holding it out for the man she had just mentally prepared herself to destroy.

“I guess this is for you,” she said, and he nodded and took the bag from her hands, thanking her.

He loosened the string that was holding the top of the pouch closed and emptied the contents onto his desk. Eleven shot forward in curiosity to look at the smuggled items and understand what they were. Around a dozen disks with two metal prongs sticking out of them fell out of the bag. They were varying sizes and colours and Eleven’s eyebrows came together as she tried to make sense of them.

Mike must have seen the interest and confusion on Eleven’s face as he explained, “They’re called capacitors. They basically just store an electric charge – radios happen to use a lot of them.”

He picked up the smallest, sky blue one and held it up for her to examine. She took it between her fingers and traced the hard, smooth coating encasing the ceramic disk inside. For something so little, it held so much power, perhaps more figuratively than literally. It was a symbol of change, of taking back what rightfully belonged to the people.

“It’s just one part out of hundreds,” Mike reminded her, fighting back a smile at her awestruck expression.

“Similar to us, right?” Eleven replied, still staring at the tiny piece of a greater puzzle in her hand. “Every little bit counts.”

Mike was silent but stared at her inquiringly, probably trying to figure her out.

She placed the capacitor back on the desk and shoved her hands in her coat pockets, a little embarrassed for getting somewhat sentimental over a radio part.

“What are you doing here anyway?” she asked him, remembering her initial shock at finding the building occupied by someone.

He paused, mulling over his answer she supposed, and then gestured vaguely at his workstation, the pile of open books and blueprints.

“Preparing, I guess,” he mumbled.

“Will these help you figure out which radio you’ll be making?” Eleven pointed at her meager contribution.

He hesitated before admitting, “not really. I’m thinking it might end up being a Heathkit HG-10B, the VFO, though.”

“Your technological jargon is on point,” Eleven joked. Mike laughed a little and apologized.

“It was the most powerful Heathkit radio, the last manual released before the government bought the company and restricted access to their products,” he explained. “They’ve probably improved on the model since then, but I should be able to adapt as long as the technology hasn’t advanced too much.”

“What if it has?” Eleven asked and Mike shrugged.

“This would all be pointless, I guess,” he responded. It was quite the contrast from his usual optimism. He seemed down on himself but Eleven wasn’t the kind of person to get involved or offer comfort to people. She was feeling a little sorry for him though and sort of wished she knew the right words to say.

“Well, are you heading home soon?” she asked, noticing the late hour. “No point stressing yourself out over something that isn’t under your control quite yet.”

“No, I’ll be staying here,” he muttered, closing in on himself.

“Oh,” she mumbled, hiding her confusion. “Will you be okay then?”

He looked up at her and she bit her lip at his forlorn expression. He glanced away quickly, probably due to her reaction.

“Honestly, I’ve been squatting here for a couple of weeks now,” he explained, seeing her concerned reaction, he continued, “Steve knows, he’s alright with it.”

“Where do you sleep?” For some reason, was her first question.

He chuckled, “I don’t really sleep, but I’ve got an old sleeping bag hanging out somewhere in here.”

Again, Eleven found herself lost for words. Luckily, Mike wasn’t.

“I lost my job a while ago, and pretty quickly ran out of money to pay for rent. Considering how familiar all of us are with current politics and economics, you probably understand that finding a new job is basically impossible right now,” he carried on. Eleven nodded, dumbly.

He ran a shaking hand through his dark, thick and curly head of hair and Eleven could see the hopelessness radiating off him. The aura was contagious, and Eleven swiftly found herself depressed on his behalf.

“I don’t have much to offer,” she stated, her sudden and determined voice surprising both of them, “but if you need any help at all, feel free to ask.”

He thanked her awkwardly, making her feel out-of-place with her suggestion. She knew Mike was probably just too prideful to accept the assistance like most people, but she held herself a little less securely due to his lack of receptiveness.

“Also, I’m sorry,” she attempted again, probably only humiliating herself further.

“What for?” He grinned. “It only motivates me to keep working to stop this from happening to other people. I’ll be fine, anyway.”

There was his optimism, the attitude she was more familiar with. She felt at ease due to his response, the awkward tension dissipating.

“Well, aren’t you an inspiration?” she joked, and he laughed at the irony of her question.

They smiled at each other, the cause that united them igniting a sudden bond between them. It was that undulating sensation present in every meeting, swelling with every secret desire for ruin revealed, every mischievous plan concocted, every eager smirk shared.

Eleven had to tear her eyes away from his wide, goofy grin, something she would probably consider adorable if she wasn’t too proud to admit it. She cleared her throat and ignored the abrupt flare up of her face, turning away and heading towards the door, assuming their conversation was over.

“Hey,” Mike called as she reached the threshold and she looked over her shoulder at him.

“Thanks for your offer,” he said with genuine warmth in his voice, his eyes bright. “I might take you up on it sometime.”

Eleven hid her face in the collar of her coat, but nodded. Then she quickly departed before making some silly comment that was rising in her throat to dismiss the sentimental mood Mike had created.

She tried to push that grin out of her mind on her way home, tried to ignore the lingering of his dark, heartfelt eyes in her thoughts. Eventually, she succeeded, her brain instead focusing on her accomplishment that night. Her very first real role in the Party, a sort of personal initiation into the phase of her life that would be meaningful, maybe even legendary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a kudos if u liked it and let me know what u think :)


	3. there's a revolution coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is from 'revolution' by the score. this chapter might make some people uncomfortable as things turn a little radical. the ethics of the actions of the party are discussed at length throughout this story, though, so hopefully that makes up for the icky feelings people might get initially. i don't want people thinking i take stuff like this lightly when it happens in real life.
> 
> you'll understand what i'm talking about soon lol
> 
> i hope everyone had a great week, thanks for reading

The protest had an admirable turn out. Eleven was more than a little surprised since Will rarely spoke and Lucas didn’t exactly seem like the type that was constantly making friends. But there were at least a couple hundred people lingering on the library grounds, some holding signs and shouting and others chatting amongst themselves, eager to meet people with similar opinions and values.

The library was large and majestic with a steep flight of stairs, its pearly columns and greying decorative statuettes reminiscent of the architecture of the first colonists. The roof was pointed in a traditional manner, the dark, glass windows arching and the set of wooden doors paling in comparison to the size of the structure. The property of the library stretched out another acre from the building itself, composed of a commons area where special community events like markets or celebrations would be held. Such occasions were rarely planned now.

It was cold out, so most attendees were decked out in thick, insulated jackets, fuzzy mittens, woolen hats and long scarves. Eleven, being short of cash, was relying solely on a thin coat and holey gloves to keep her warm. She was starting to feel chilled and was debating heading home, but she didn’t want to look like she didn’t care about the cause. It wasn’t helping that Max was wholly distracted by Lucas’ presence, making her feel like the third wheel she had dreaded being. Thankfully though, Dustin had showed up and was keeping her attention on his silly antics and attempts at entertainment.

“I wanted to bring a sign that said, ‘I’m so angry, I made a sign.’ But Will said it would be counterproductive,” Dustin remarked and Eleven responded with a laugh.

“Maybe a little, but I would have liked it,” she assured him, and he grinned.

“I think you guys are having a little too much fun for being at a protest,” a voice spoke out behind them and they turned around to find Mike standing a couple feet away.

“Hey man, you made it!” Dustin cheered and approached him for a hug. Mike rolled his eyes as Dustin squeezed him tight, pinning his arms to his sides. He only came up to Mike’s chin, so it was a bit of a humorous exchange.

When Dustin let go, they ambled back over to where Eleven stood, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she fought down her shivers.

“Yeah, I didn’t have much on my plate today,” Mike commented, glancing at Eleven as if they were in on a secret. She bashfully glanced at the ground where a dusting of snow had fallen the night before.

“Well, you haven’t missed out on a lot,” Dustin replied. He was right, it had only been an hour or two since people had started arriving and so far, there wasn’t any sort of police force present, which was a good sign.

“Except for Lucas and Max giggling together and falling all over each other like crushes in junior high,” Eleven mumbled bitterly.

Mike looked over to where Lucas and Max were huddled close together, likely under the pretense of staying warm, and his eyebrows shot up.

“I would have never expected to see Lucas look like a lovesick puppy, but that’s exactly how he’s acting right now.” Mike observed, chuckling slightly.

“Yeah, it’s disgusting.” Eleven rolled her eyes, getting a little annoyed at being ignored by her best friend.

“Awe, are you jealous, El?” Mike teased, and Eleven blinked at him.

“El?” She asked, quirking an eyebrow at him in confusion.

Mike froze as she and Dustin both stared at him curiously.

“Yeah, like, um, like, short for Eleven?” he rambled, his face slowly burning bright red. “Like I’m Mike short for Michael.”

“Oh,” she replied, hiding her smirk at his stuttering and stammering. “So, you’re giving me a nickname?”

“I mean, if you want one?” he asked, squirming under her gaze.

She exchanged a look with Dustin as if they were debating poking fun at Mike, but she decided to let it go.

“Honestly, I think I’d like that much more than Eleven,” she affirmed, smiling at Mike. He visibly relaxed and then started to look almost proud of himself and his creativity.

“Yeah, it almost makes it sound like a real name,” Dustin laughed and Eleven glared at him.

“I didn’t pick it out, so you can make fun of it all you want,” she remarked, scuffing the tip of her worn winter boot at the frozen ground. Her toes were starting to feel numb.

“Hey, it’s really not that bad,” Mike attempted to make her feel better. It didn’t really work but she grinned at him gratefully nonetheless.

“El is still better,” she replied.

They smiled at each other warmly, something that was getting to be a little too frequent for her liking. Luckily, Dustin tugged Mike away to talk to Will and to read signs and decide on the best ones. She followed silently behind, wishing there was enough snow for it to crunch under her feet. She liked being reminded of the time of year. Despite the miserable ambience her world had fallen into, the holiday season still made her feel good inside. Despite the lack of happy holidays she had throughout her childhood, the atmosphere still cast a joyous spell over her. It gave her hope.

“So, what do you guys think?” Will asked after greeting Mike.

“This is awesome, man,” Mike praised him, impressed by the amount of effort put into rallying such a large crowd of people, especially in a city where questioning the decisions of the government was distasteful.

“Yeah, I think this is the most people I’ve ever seen at an event like this.” Dustin nodded.

“Not counting the police, right?” Will joked and they all laughed.

“Hopefully it stays that way today,” Mike commented, and everyone agreed.

They continued discussing the turnout, questioning Will on how he had pulled it off considering he probably didn’t even know a quarter of the people there. Eleven, meanwhile, was having trouble distracting herself from her chattering teeth and shivering shoulders.

“Shit, El, you’re freezing.” Mike observed, drawing unwelcome attention to her.

“No, I’m fine, really,” she insisted, willing her teeth to stop their clacking but failing.

Before she knew it or could stop him, Mike was tugging off his massive, dense coat and draping it over her shoulders. He had a thick, knitted sweater underneath it, so he would probably still be comfortable in the cold without the coat. At that exact moment, she raised her head to see Max smirking enormously at her.

“Is that better?” Mike asked naively. Dustin looked partly confused and partly entertained as he watched them, a teasing grin on his lips.

“Um, yeah,” Eleven replied, avoiding his eyes.

He obliviously turned back to the conversation, unaware of Eleven’s flushing face. She tried to ignore how much better she felt with the additional layer and how flattered she was that Mike had offered it to her. She could only focus on Max’s knowing smile and Dustin’s amused curiosity. She didn’t like to be seen as vulnerable, she couldn’t stand it. She would not be viewed as weak, as helpless, as a delicate girl who needed handouts and assistance regularly. She had never been that way, and she wouldn’t start now.

“Mike,” she interrupted the chatting of the boys who turned to look at her. “You can have your coat back, I’m warm enough now.”

“It’s alright, you can keep it,” Mike replied, that oblivious smile tickling his lips again, frustrating her further.

“No,” she disagreed firmly, pulling the jacket from her shoulders and holding it towards him. “I don’t need it.”

He stared at her, confused by her suddenly bitter tone. He looked a little offended even. But he nodded finally and collected the garment from her, shrugging it back on without a comment. Meanwhile, Eleven relentlessly tried to bite down any hint of guilt or regret for her attitude towards him.

Max and Lucas eventually sauntered back to the group, red in their cheeks and eyes moving to find each other constantly. Eleven wanted to gag. Before she could make a sassy remark about their sappy behaviour, a callous voice sounded out.

“Move along, people, the fun’s over.” A man in a dark uniform and black cap was shouting, moving roughly through the crowd. He was moving towards the center of the gathering, likely to push everyone from the inside out and away from the grounds of the library.

“Oh, great,” Max muttered and stomped in his direction, determination gracing her footfalls.

“Everyone needs to evacuate the premises, or else,” the policeman claimed, waving his baton demonstratively. A woman approached him to disagree and he pushed her away harshly, angering Eleven.

“We’re not doing anything wrong,” Max challenged the man as she neared him, clearly unworried to do so as there was only one officer and plenty of protestors, but keeping some distance nonetheless.

He squared his shoulders, infuriating Eleven more. She watched carefully as he began to step slowly towards her fiery friend.

“You’re disturbing the peace, miss,” he claimed smugly, his eyes roaming over his audience.

She could see from his expression how confrontations like these boosted his ego and elevated his pride. The way he sauntered around, willing fear of detainment, or worse, into the hearts of the crowd. Eleven could sense the uneasiness reverberating off the protestors, and it was understandable considering the recent history of unlawful deaths of activists at the hands of police.

“If that were the case, we wouldn’t have called this occasion a peaceful protest.” Max crossed her arms and smirked defiantly.

The blow to the officer’s poise was visible, his confident demeanor shattering as a scowl invaded his features. He was losing patience fast.

“Alright, you’re under arrest,” he announced, plodding towards Max. In response to her gape, he continued, “don’t worry, all of your friends will be following right behind you.”

“What am I being arrested for?” she demanded, wisely backing up away from him with her arms spread out in a manner of disbelief.

“Disorderly conduct,” he replied, the answer falling so quickly from his lips he probably had it prepared the moment he set foot on the library grounds.

“More like contempt of cop!” Max argued, her fists clenching in anger.

Eleven eyed the officer’s steps, taking it upon herself to pull his feet out from under him as he started to cross a strip of ice. His legs flew up in the air and his ass landed hard on the cold, hard slab of frozen water beneath him. The mob of demonstrators gasped collectively. Eleven saw Max sneak a glance towards her, a surprised, uncertain grin on her face as she suspected her friend was to credit for this amazing spectacle.

The officer grumbled in pain, his face blooming red in embarrassment and frustration as he attempted to stand once more. When he got a good footing, Eleven tugged him off kilter again and watched him victoriously as he sprawled helplessly on his back.

The other Party members had begun to catch on, following Max’s sneaky gaze towards the telekinetic girl. Dustin was beaming wide, as usual, Will still looked pale but slightly amused, Lucas had a hand over his widening mouth, and Mike looked thoroughly entertained.

Max started laughing, to the policeman’s horror. He obviously could not weather anymore humiliation and took off in an angry huff away from the library. She had an anxious feeling that he might rally up more cops to take on the campaigners, claiming them rioters, but she hoped he would be too ashamed to reveal the reason he couldn’t handle the arrest of a single mouthy girl.

Once he was out of sight, the crowd seemed to relax, returning confidently to their conversations and chants. The present members of the Party quickly flocked to Eleven’s side.

“You’re the best, Eleven,” Max stated, giggles still rippling out of her but her gratitude shining through.

“I know, I know, what would you do without me?” Eleven bragged with nonchalance, grinning with overexaggerated pride.

“I would get arrested, obviously,” Max responded, jokingly hitting her shoulder.

“Yeah, that was kind of amazing,” Dustin added, eyebrows high in emphasis.

They mocked the police officer’s face for a while, laughing at the comments Max had made and their own reactions as well. Then the group split up again, Will mentioning that he would need to make a speech soon to thank everyone for coming and discussing the reasons the protest was held. Lucas accompanied him towards the steps leading up to the library, the optimal place to grab the attention of the crowd. Dustin and Mike took off to talk to a group of people with some funny signs, leaving Eleven alone with Max. The playful sparkle in the redhead’s eyes caused dread to rise up in Eleven’s chest as she braced herself for what she knew was coming.

“So,” she drawled. “Isn’t Mike, like, _so_ nice?”

“Oh my god,” Eleven muttered, rolling her eyes and looking away. “Can’t you leave me alone for one day?”

“You know that’s not possible,” Max replied as if it were obvious. “And I know what I saw.”

“You saw nothing,” Eleven asserted coldly. “I didn’t want his coat anyway, so I gave it back to him.”

“But did you see his face?” Max asked with excitement. “Utterly crestfallen.”

“Wow, that’s a big word for you,” Eleven commented sarcastically.

“Shut up,” Max complained then grew thoughtful. “Seriously, Eleven, I think he likes you.”

“Thanks for the insight,” Eleven mumbled unenthusiastically, her tone becoming more and more distant. She didn’t want to think about that possibility as it would probably only complicate her life further, as well as her participation in the Party. She also knew it was unlikely anyway, Mike was benevolence and magnanimity and Eleven was bitterness and resentment. She didn't deserve his affection.

“You’re welcome,” Max responded happily, unaware of her friend’s profound quietness.

After a moment of silence, Eleven remembered something more positive.

“Fun fact,” she spoke up with a small grin. “Everyone’s calling me El now.”

“By everyone, do you mean Mike?” Max instantly reverted to teasing.

“Stop,” Eleven whined, refusing to admit that it was, in fact, him who came up with the nickname. That was one small detail she would not allow to come out.

“Okay, fine. I’ll drop it,” Max conceded, disappointed that her entertainment would come to an end. “For now.”

Eleven was always forgiving of her best friend and her best friend’s nosiness, so she was unable to resist grinning at Max in appreciation. Then she grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the library where Will and Lucas had commanded the focus of the crowd, so they could listen to the speech.

They were surprised when Will spoke with ease, the words flowing out with the strength of a current. They would have never expected the boy who barely contributed vocally in meetings to conjure such emotion with his arguments. Emotions like frustration and despair somehow muddled with optimism and courage. It was a call to action and, based on the reactions from the crowd, it was working. If they had wanted to, the Party would likely have been successful recruiting dozens of people that day. But emotions can be fleeting, and while they can will people to act extraordinarily, they don’t usually last if not given a constant, durable reason to.

If Eleven didn’t have the history that she did, she may not have been there that day. If she hadn’t experienced the obstacles she faced, or felt the despair and misery she did, she could have led an entirely different life. If she didn’t have very specific people to blame for her unhappiness, she wouldn’t have ended up with the same taste for vengeance and thus the craving for action. But she did.

~ ~ ~

Eleven found herself at that old warehouse once more for a meeting a few days after the protest. Will and Lucas had shared their excitement over their successful organization, the great turn-out, and, of course, Eleven’s destruction of the feeble ego of a police officer. Everyone passed her appreciative looks at that point.

Steve expressed his admiration and apologized for his absence but of course most people worked irrational hours each week to afford to live and he was one of them. Once they concluded their proud discussion of their shared accomplishment, Steve commenced the crucial announcements of the evening.

“I’ve had this idea brewing for a few weeks now,” he began, pacing as usual. “I’ve seen what a lot of you guys are capable of at this point, and I think we’re ready to begin preparing for this particular project.”

Intrigue had peaked in the room, and everyone waited expectantly while Steve paused to get his thoughts together. Eleven was confused because she thought the assembly of the radio was the priority for awhile since it would be a helpful accessory to any other upcoming projects.

“While we wait for the radio to be finished, as well as, hopefully, a transmitter, we’re going to be plotting to bomb the Department of Defense headquarters,” Steve announced.

The room exploded with comments, some of approval and others of displeasure. Those who disagreed argued that a bombing would make the Party out to be a terrorist group, and the others claimed that it was not terrorism, it was a symbol of revolution. Eleven couldn’t decide which side she was on.

“If our first official action as the Party is a bombing, we’re going to be painted by everyone as radical extremists and we won’t be taken seriously at all,” Barb claimed, some frustration brewing beneath the surface.

“We will be taken seriously by the people who matter,” Steve responded calmly.

“You mean the FBI?” Dustin asked sarcastically. “I think they sure as hell would take a bombing seriously.”

“Right, but I think I have a way to obstruct any investigation,” Steve said, ignoring Dustin’s attitude, “we have someone on the inside.”

“There’s a federal agent who wants to dismantle the government? Does he realize how much he gets paid?” Billy asked incredulously.

“Yes and we’re going to call him Chief Hopper,” Steve answered.

“How are we going to make a bomb? Access to the materials needed for that is severely limited,” Nancy contributed, her demeanor collected and her attitude seemingly one of resignation with the idea.

“That’s where Mike comes in handy,” Steve replied, glancing at the man in question.

Mike silently nodded, appearing to have already had a conversation with Steve about this plan.

“He’s going to be working with Eleven as well, as she also holds a crucial role in this operation,” he continued, surprising the girl in question.

Her reaction was much different than Mike’s as she had not been informed of this at all. She didn’t know anything about bombs, so she had no idea what her part in this would look like.

She opened her mouth to question that decision, but Steve spoke before she could.

“Mike will be explaining everything to you soon,” he assured her. “You’re going to be partners for this project.”

Eleven ignored the smirk arising on Max’s face beside her, knowing that she was thrilled that they would have to spend time together, alone, in private.

“Yeah, partners in crime,” Dustin joked and proceeded to laugh at himself.

Eleven hesitantly looked in Mike’s direction, aware that most people would be watching them. He looked up at her almost instantly and swiftly sent her a reassuring smile. It somehow calmed her, knowing the idea of bombing a parliament building and potentially killing government officials didn’t seem to phase him. He made it feel easy.

After Steve explained a little more of the scheme he had cooked up and answered endless questions about the plan, the Party disbanded for the night. As Eleven stood up, grabbing her jacket to slip on and the little brown bag she carried with her, Mike approached.

“Tomorrow night,” he said, and she stared at him. “Come meet me here, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

“Okay,” she agreed, because she had to.

“I’m looking forward to us working together,” Mike continued with some confidence, but Eleven could see a slight uncertainty lurking beneath the surface. He was probably worried about overstepping since Eleven had rejected him earlier in the week over something as dumb as a coat.

“Yeah, making an illegal bomb sounds like my kind of fun,” Eleven joked.

“Right? It might make a good hobby.” Mike smiled, a lightness radiating from him once again after she responded affirmatively.

“Maybe we should start a club,” Eleven suggested.

“I could probably use more friends that can make bombs,” he agreed.

“Bombmaking is a very important quality in a person.” she nodded, grinning at him.

“Alright, you two.” Max stepped in. “I think that’s enough banter for the day.”

Eleven paused, hoping that it didn’t look like they were flirting. From the way they were smiling at each other, she wouldn’t be surprised if it was misconstrued.

“Aren’t you walking home with Lucas?” Eleven asked, redirecting the attention from them onto Max.

“He’s got a couple things to take care of.” She shrugged then hooked her arm around Eleven’s. “You’re stuck with me.”

“As usual,” Eleven hummed, she wasn’t complaining. Having Max by her side after receiving the news about the new project would be refreshing. She looked back up at Mike. “So, tomorrow?”

He nodded, and they exchanged farewells, turning away from each other to leave, bracing themselves for the oncoming chill.

“What are you thinking?” Max asked carefully after walking in silence for a few moments, Eleven obviously deep in thought.

“I don’t know, yet,” Eleven responded slowly. “I think I’m conflicted about the bombing.”

“Me too,” Max agreed quietly.

“I can’t wrap my head around possibly hurting people, maybe even killing them,” Eleven admitted. “But the people in that building deserve it, and it will be the right thing to do in the long run.”

“I wish I could be as certain as you always are,” Max confessed shyly.

She didn’t have as much of a reason to be a member of the Party as the others. Max hadn’t experienced loss due to the actions of the government, and she had been lucky as a child to never feel pangs of hunger or the struggle of living on the street. Her motive was due to her education growing up and the knowledge of her parents. They had been active members of a resistance organization as young adults and, once retired from the dangerous scene, they passed on the philosophies of socialism to their children, raising them to be conscious and wise citizens with a familiarity with various political ideologies.

“You don’t have to be,” Eleven assured her, nudging her side slightly. “It’s good to have a second opinion sometimes.”

“I mean, you know I love playing devil’s advocate,” Max affirmed, a sly look encasing her features.

“That’s one of your many talents,” Eleven concurred.

“What are the other ones?” Max crowed, trying to coax compliments out of her friend.

“Well, you’re pretty good at annoying me endlessly, for one,” Eleven intoned simply.

Max scoffed and promptly leaned over to snag a handful of snow from the ground and stuff it down the back of Eleven’s coat in retaliation. The brunette shrieked at the freezing slush slithering down her back and grabbed her own mound of snow to fling in the culprit’s direction.

“Way to prove a point!” Eleven exclaimed, laughter bubbling out of her.

They slung the icy mush back and forth until they were doubling over with mirth and their cheeks hurt from smiling. Then, they finally linked arms again and strolled off towards home, snickering the whole way, their minds at ease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing max and el's conversations is my favourite thing honestly. 
> 
> next chapter mike and eleven get some quality time and we finally learn eleven's origin story.
> 
> please leave kudos and comments if you're interested in this story (or if you're not, maybe tell me why so i can improve my writing?), they're very motivating and inspiring for me to read. thanks :)


	4. we'll set fear on fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is from 'fears on fire' by ruelle.
> 
> happy new year, everyone. im posting this just a little earlier than i normally would because im going to a hockey game tonight which im really excited about but my team is probably gonna lose lmaoo. 
> 
> anyway, this chapter actually has the first scene i ever wrote for this story so the tone might be a little off. i also dont know if the canon eleven would have the powers she uses in this, but i suppose this is au so it doesnt matter lol. i still really like this chapter though, so i hope you guys enjoy it. 
> 
> i also had to google 'how do pipe bombs work' for this chapter so im probably a wanted terrorist now.
> 
> thanks for reading :)

Eleven arrived at the warehouse the next day as the sun began to set, hidden behind grey, wintry clouds. The street was void of life, people retreating to the best shelter they could find with the temperature descending more every day. She was hoping her heater would get its shit together soon or else she would have to start wearing three layers of clothes to bed.

She easily entered the building, the lights still buzzing alive as they were the evening Eleven had delivered the radio part. It was still eerie being there without the incessant chatter of a meeting, without Steve dominating the room. The room was so still it felt like it was frozen in time. As she entered the circle of chairs, Mike emerged from the hallway, coming to meet her as if he knew instinctively that she had shown up.

“Hey,” he greeted her, his boyish grin tracing his lips. His hands were tucked into the pockets of worn, brown corduroy pants, a speckled tan woolen sweater with zig zag patterns of blue and red and a navy collar enveloping his torso.

“How’s it going?” Eleven asked cordially and he responded with a shrug.

For some reason, she had been feeling anxious to be alone with Mike. Probably because of Max’s theorizing that he was interested in her. She wasn’t scared that he would try to make a move on her or anything because Mike was nothing to be afraid of. She was more worried that spending more time with him and getting to know him might cause her to like him more than she should.

“Made it here okay?” Mike inquired considerately as he approached her.

“Yeah, it’s too cold outside for the bad guys to be out and about,” Eleven answered, understanding the underlying request of the question.

“Oh, good. Did you stay warm?” he continued to interrogate, slightly cringing at his question. Apparently, she assumed, he thought Eleven was very touchy about other people trying to keep her from being chilled to the bone. She couldn’t blame him due to her behaviour at the protest.

“Yeah, I got a new coat,” she chirped brightly in an attempt to assure him he wasn’t crossing any boundaries. She threw her arms out wide to demonstrate the fact, and they admired the new, glossy and thick black coat she had adorned.

“Congratulations,” he praised her cheerily. She wondered briefly if he was glad he wouldn’t have to worry about her freezing to death anymore but just as quickly dismissed the thought.

“Should we get started?”

“Sure,” Mike approved, turning around and heading towards the back, looking over his shoulder momentarily to instruct her to, “follow me.”

Eleven trailed behind him, eager to get working. She still didn’t know what she was going to be doing for this project or what she and Mike would need to develop together, and she was vibrating with anticipation to find out.

They entered the office, Eleven unzipping her coat as she looked around. There were some photographs hung on the wall; scenes of a family from another time, smiling happily at the camera. There was a barren bookshelf, the usual occupants probably thrown lazily about the room, and a thick blue sleeping bag rolled snugly up in the corner, an accompanying threadbare pillow sitting nearby.

“I’m guessing my special talents are going to be coming in handy for whatever this is we’re doing,” Eleven suspected, subtly encouraging Mike to begin to explain what was going on.

“Actually, they’ll be pretty integral, like Steve said,” Mike affirmed. “Let me just find the design for the bomb, and we’ll talk about it.”

“Awesome,” Eleven commented, standing and watching awkwardly as Mike began to rummage through the mess of a pile of papers and books on his worn-down desk. Eleven swore she could see the legs of the table beginning to buckle under the weight.

“How did you figure out you had powers in the first place? You were born with them, right?” Mike asked conversationally.

“I always got taken to the doctor for nose bleeds when I was a kid.” Eleven shrugged, deciding to take a seat in a worn desk chair on the other side of the room.

Mike paused and looked up, his eyebrows drawing together as he tried to understand the relevance of that to his question. Eleven smirked and rolled her eyes.

“Whenever I used my… _abilities_ as a kid before I got used to them, my nose would bleed,” she explained. “It started almost subconsciously, I think. Like, I remember being about four or five and a woman who was taking care of me had put this big plate of cookies up on a counter that I couldn’t reach. I wanted a cookie so bad. It was all I could think about. And suddenly, it was just… in my hands.”

She quieted, thoughtfully, seeing the image so clearly in her mind. Remembering her confusion but overall pleasure at the turn of events.

 “That woman walked in afterwards and I could see how confused she was that I managed to get a cookie down from that counter, but I didn’t exactly have an explanation for her,” Eleven continued, smiling and laughing a little.

She looked at Mike to gauge his reaction. He had stopped digging around to listen to her, and he looked at her with such intrigue and patience that she felt compelled to continue talking about her background.

“I began to understand how I was able to bring items closer to me without reaching for them, how to close doors without touching them. I harnessed my skills all on my own, in secret. They gave me the control, the security that I was lacking in every other aspect of my life,” she admitted, shyly. “And then I started looking for answers; how I ended up with these powers and where they came from. I finally got close after days of roaming through the shelves of the library, reading books about telekinesis and psychic abilities. Then for some reason, I turned towards old newspaper articles.”

Mike leaned forward in his seat, obviously interested in her storytelling. Eleven ignored the heat growing under her skin from his undivided attention and focused on the finale of her origin story.

 “A few years ago, a woman named Terry Ives tried to sue the local laboratory for conducting inhumane experiments on her. They would drug her and put her in a sensory deprivation tank to ‘expand the human mind.’ She didn’t know she was pregnant at the time. She said that she had given up her daughter to protect her from the experimentation she would inevitably experience. Everyone thought she was crazy, and she eventually lost her mind in a psychiatric ward somewhere. When I read those newspaper articles in the library’s archives, I could feel it. I could tell I was her lost daughter. There was no proof, but something clicked in my head and my heart. I knew she was my mother.”

They were both silent. Eleven staring thoughtfully at her feet, still wishing, after all these years, that she would have found her mother before she threw her sanity to the wind. There were many lonely nights that she imagined her mother coming back for her when she was a kid. Her life would have been entirely different, no doubt, whether for better or for worse. The sappy part of her naively believed she would have been happier with a real mother, but she would never know now.

“Wow,” Mike finally replied, almost in a whisper. Eleven startled, forgetting temporarily that he was there, and blushed after realizing how much she had opened up to him. Blushing because she didn’t know why and maybe because she didn’t want to know why she had felt comfortable laying her soul out bare for him.

“Yeah, great story, huh? Too bad it won’t get a happy ending,” she attempted to joke, pushing away the heaviness in the room, the tension that had settled around them.

“I’m sorry about your mother,” Mike said softly, not wanting to ignore Eleven’s history, to dismiss her difficult journey to where she was that day.

She shrugged in response, the glitter of something special in Mike’s eyes silencing her before glancing away again. She appreciated the sentiment, but she didn’t need anyone to apologize.

“I’m sort of surprised you told me all of that.” Mike blinked, still speaking quietly as if she might explode on him.

“Well, you asked,” Eleven snapped, frustrated with herself because she was also surprised at the situation. She didn’t want him to read into it too much.

“Right, sorry,” Mike responded, looking away as if in shame and going back to trying to track down the blueprints.

Eleven tried not to feel bad for lashing out a little at him, but it wasn’t his fault that she started rambling about her life story. She knew his face had turned red even though his back was facing her, probably ashamed, but she stayed quiet.

“Um, anyway I found the blueprint of the bomb.” Mike cleared his throat and motioned her over without looking up.

Eleven came up beside him at the desk, studying the design before her.

“It’s a basic pipe bomb, so it’s just a steel water pipe that’s closed on either end with explosive material inside, like gunpowder or something. How it works is pressure builds up inside from the fuel and usually people drill a hole in one end to stick a fuse in that they light to get it to blow up,” Mike explained, pointing to the different components as he spoke.

“So I’ll be lighting the fuse,” Eleven assumed.

“That’s what I was thinking but then I realized… if you can start a fire with your mind alone, we wouldn’t need to use a fuse. You would activate the bomb by setting the inside of it aflame. I think that would make the transportation and placement of it safer for me.” Mike brainstormed, looking up at her inquisitively.

Eleven bit her lip. “The only thing is, I’ve never tried to light a fire before.”

“Oh.” Mike’s shoulders sagged, visibly disappointed.

“I can try,” Eleven said, wanting to see Mike excited and hopeful again. For no apparent reason.

“Alright.” Mike lit up and looked around the cluttered room, his eyes landing on something that he went over to grab. Eleven turned around to see him placing a tall, white candle on the end table. He looked at her expectantly, his eyes bright with eagerness to see her show off her abilities. Eleven hid a smile at his childlike wonder and walked over.

She placed her hands on the table in an effort to ground herself, leaned forward and started purposefully at the stick of wax before her. She concentrated her mind on the wick, trying to alter it in a way that would cause a flame to erupt. She saw it bend back a little, but that was all. She huffed in frustration.

Mike hummed in thought beside her and she didn’t feel like facing his dissatisfaction again. She didn’t usually care what other people thought of her, their reactions to things she did or said. That was probably why she never found a family that stuck when she moved from foster home to foster home; she didn’t care enough to listen to them or be sensitive to their wants and needs. She was just too angry at the world.

“Well, let’s think about how fire is made. Like what elements need to be present in the first place?” Mike pondered, his fingers coming up to his pink lips in thought and temporarily distracting Eleven. “Fuel, oxygen, and heat. In this case, the oxygen and fuel are going to be available, it’s just the heat that we need.”

“Thanks for the mansplaination,” Eleven teased with a smile and Mike rolled his eyes but returned the smirk. “I’m not sure if I can create heat. Usually I only manipulate matter, not energy.”

“Fair enough. I don’t know, but something is telling me that it might be possible,” Mike replied hopefully. Always the optimist.

“What would that something be?” Eleven asked.

“I guess I just believe in you, El.” Mike shrugged and smiled gently at her. Eleven tried desperately to ignore the nerves tickling in her stomach due to the gentle simmering of his pupils as they locked on her and the use of her newly bestowed nickname.

“Thanks,” Eleven grunted out, faking sarcasm but grinning nonetheless. “Okay, let me try again.”

This time as she concentrated on the wick of the candle she focused on warmth. She imagined warmth in her fingertips that she transferred to the table, and imagined it climbing up the shaft of the candle. Nothing was happening, so she turned up the intensity until it felt like her fingers were nearly burning and her forehead started to sweat but she kept pushing. She let the heat immerse her, so much so that she felt like she was a boiling ball of energy. Then she let it pulse out of her like a wave. And a flicker of light sparkled alive at the tip of the candle.

“Yes!” she heard Mike practically screech, pumping his fist and clapping his hands. “Oh my god, that was so cool!”

The warmth settled in her belly, the feeling of pride and satisfaction causing an eruption of goosebumps along her arms. She looked at Mike and smiled wide, but deploying energy had taken a lot out of her. Her knees buckled a bit and she lowered herself to the ground, her head feeling light.

“Um, shit, are you okay?” Mike knelt beside her, a large hand landing on her shoulder and squeezing slightly. The warmth burned brighter.

Eleven nodded, mumbling, “I’m fine, just a little exhausted.”

Mike still looked worried but then the corner of his lips twitched into a smirk and he brought a finger to her lips. She flinched back, confused, but when he drew his hand back he showed her the speck of blood on it.

“Your nose is bleeding,” he explained, grinning wide like it was the greatest thing he’d seen all day. Probably second only to watching a girl create fire with her mind.

“That’s so gross,” Eleven complained and rolled her eyes, her hand coming up to wipe it away in a movement that felt far too familiar.

“No, it’s incredible,” Mike assured her, beaming at her with awe. “I told you I knew you could do it.”

“Yeah, I guess you were right,” Eleven responded softly. “Thanks.”

They stared at each other for a moment, Eleven fighting down the blush inspired by the admiration glowing on Mike’s face. She was so used to her powers, she always forgot they were something special. But the way Mike was looking at her made her feel like magic.

After holding the eye contact for a second too long, Mike cleared his throat and glanced away.

“You’re probably still going to need practice. You’re going to be much farther away from the bomb and you won’t be able to see it to focus on it. Do you think that’s possible?” Mike asked, eagerness audible in his voice.

“If I can create fire, I’m pretty sure I can do that,” Eleven laughed. “But I will definitely need practice.”

“Okay,” Mike replied, “maybe we can work on it together, then.”

Eleven saw the shyness in his blush and let herself bask in the attention for just a moment. Guys never showed an interest in her, probably because she constantly pushed everyone away. But for some reason she didn’t feel like doing that with Mike. Maybe because he was sensitive to her boundaries, or because he treated her and cared about her like she was more than her powers. Or because he believed in her. Either way, she knew she would have been able to train all on her own, but she decided to accept his offer anyway.

~ ~ ~

“How did yesterday go, by the way?” Max asked distractedly, mulling over the order written in her hand and dashing around the kitchen to assemble drinks for a table.

“Good. I can do something new,” Eleven informed her in a hush, smiling proudly. She dropped a tray of dirty dishes into the sink, the china plates and the steel utensils clattering loudly against each other.

Max stopped in her tracks and looked up with fascination.

“There’s even more you can do?” she voiced disbelievingly, ignoring the loud voices of the kitchen staff as they prepared meals behind them.

It was a busier day at Benny’s Burgers, a sudden lunch rush had descended on them as a corporate group arrived to celebrate some sort of deal they had made. Eleven and Max had barely talked to each other all day, besides the necessary communication about the needs and wants of the office workers. They had finally left and now Eleven had been given the task of cleaning up after them while Max and the cooks caught up on all the other customers’ orders.

“I can light fires,” Eleven replied, a flash of excitement invading her facial expression.

“Oh, so you’re an arsonist now?” Max joked, but her awe shone through her relaxed reaction.

“No, but I could be a really successful one if I tried,” Eleven affirmed. “If we owned anything of value, we could get rich off insurance claims.”

Max grew more interested at that, and Eleven could see the cogs turning as she contemplated seriously over that information, knowing exactly what she was thinking.

“Oh my god, I was _kidding."_

“Just think about it for a second,” Max continued conspiratorially, her voice lowering.

“Shut up, Max,” Eleven scorned her but laughed at her antics. “Get back to work.”

“I wouldn’t have to work if your fires made us rich,” Max argued, her eyes wide with excitement as she awaited Eleven’s reaction. She tacked a handful of small sheets of paper to the order wheel and began pouring water into glasses.

“You also wouldn’t have to work if you were in prison,” was Eleven’s swift rebuttal. She gathered some clean tableware and cloth napkins and piled them onto a tray.

“As if that’s not a risk we face everyday,” Max mumbled unhappily. She was right, if they were exposed as members of an organization plotting to bomb a governmental building, they would be thrown behind bars faster than one could say Jack Robinson.

“That’s true, but may I remind you that, for now, you still have rent to pay,” Eleven pointed out, lifting her heavy tray off the counter.

Max groaned as she flooded amber ale out of a tap and into a mug. “No need. That’s all I think about anyway.”

“Only three hours left,” Eleven sang happily to lift Max’s spirits, pretending there wasn’t a huge chance they would both end up working overtime.

“I’ll be counting down every minute,” Max muttered frowning.

Eleven awed in mock pity at her friend’s pouting who stuck her tongue out at her in retaliation. They marched back out to the seating area with their trays and split off in opposite directions to resume their work.

Eleven admitted to herself that she was looking forward to meeting up with Mike again, only because it would be a lot more fun than running around a restaurant until her feet blistered and getting yelled at by patrons all day. She had noticed she felt lighter, happier when she left the previous day and she had the intuition that spending some time with Mike would result in the same cheerfulness. It was like he had cast a spell over her. He was such a bright ball of energy in a world void of meaning and life, his attitude was contagious and uplifting. She was starting to wish she could be more like him. She also knew, however, that she would never dare to vocalize those feelings to Max.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is when elevens personality really starts to soften.
> 
> so im actually leaving to costa rica for two weeks to volunteer at a sea turtle rehabilitation facility and i think i should be able to update this while im gone because ive already written the chapters but i dont wanna guarantee anything lol. i think i'll be able to write one more chapter for my other fic before i leave (surprise, im actually continuing it right away lmao) but that will probably be it for two to three weeks. sorryyyy
> 
> anyway as always, leave a kudos if u liked it and let me know what you think. i really really appreciate any comments i receive. thanks :)


	5. living in a daydream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from 'daydream' by ruelle. pretty sure all of her music was made solely for me to base my chapter titles on, tbh.
> 
> im posting this from costa rica lol. 
> 
> so again im not sure what eleven is canonically capable of with her powers but im going ahead with  
> my interpretation anyway. the 'void' is also a little different here only because eleven has not had anyone training her how to use her powers and she has to discover them all on her own and i wanted that to happen very naturally.
> 
> anyway thanks for reading :)

The wind was nippy, biting at the tip of her nose and her cheeks and leaving red streaks in its wake. The air was cold and bitter, the snow on the ground and the sky above were both gray and bleak, but Eleven was in high spirits. She had seen a mother and her children watching in anticipation as their father secured lines of Christmas lights to the shabby roof of their house, the colourful decorations masking the run-down home beneath. It was the first sign of the holiday season that Eleven had seen, and she took it as her cue to unashamedly sing carols at work and deck the halls of the restaurant.

She was on her way to the warehouse again, which she had become tempted to refer to simply as Mike’s house due to his constant presence there. She had visited the place more to see Mike than to attend meetings and he was what conjured up in her mind in relation to the warehouse. She wondered if Mike was starting to consider it his home too.

They had arranged a session to practice for their mission again, and after spending a horrid day at the restaurant where she spilled coffee on herself and tripped and fell and got hit on by too many gross guys, she was looking forward to it.

“Hello!” she called cheerily as she stepped inside, stomping her boots to shake off the snowflakes that gripped them. She pulled off her beanie and scarf as she waited for Mike’s greeting, probably mussing up her chocolate brown hair as she did so.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Mike observed as an acknowledgement of her entrance, staring at her curiously as he met her at the entrance. He looked comfy in a navy-blue sweatshirt and some grey sweatpants. Almost cuddly.

“I’m just trying to spread some holiday cheer,” Eleven claimed, her arms flying about dramatically as she beamed at him.

“Oh God, it’s not even December yet,” he complained light-heartedly, watching her with an amused grin.

“It’s close enough,” Eleven argued, frowning. “Don’t be a Scrooge.”

“Honestly, I would never take you to be a Christmas kind of person,” Mike commented, raising an eyebrow at her and dipping his hands casually into his pockets.

“Why not?” she asked, crossing her arms defiantly.

“Um, obviously because you’re the biggest grump I know,” Mike responded mockingly, turning around and walking away in confidence that she would follow behind him to the office.

“ _Obviously_ , you don’t know me very well then,” Eleven objected, smoothing down the tangles of her hair.

He turned around suddenly, gazing at her inquisitively with his lips parted as if ready to say something. He paused though, and she watched as he transitioned from a brave and smug stance to one of less certainty.

“You’re right,” he responded simply, almost resignedly, his eyebrows drawing together. Then he turned swiftly back towards the office and stalked off.

Eleven was puzzled by his reaction and worried that she had mistakenly upset him. She didn’t know why her statement had bothered him unless, for some reason, it bothered him that they didn’t know each other very well. That would be the natural deduction to make.

She pursued after him distantly and quietly as she overanalyzed the very short exchange that just took place. She didn’t usually overthink things like these but for some reason she couldn’t stop herself.

When she arrived in the office, Mike seemed to have regained his laidback disposition, looking up at her excitedly.

“I’ve got the perfect thing for you to start practicing,” he informed her as she removed her coat and placed it on a pile of discarded items, accustomed now to the disorganization.

“What is it?” she asked, always amused by his eagerness.

He gestured to his desk which had been surprisingly cleared of its usual mess to make room for the candle she lit before, a single, dense book, and a shiny mound of silver junk. Mike must have noticed her studying the latter object with fascination.

“That’s the partly built radio,” he informed her, a hint of self-satisfaction inflecting his tone. “I think I’m about halfway finished it.”

“Wow,” Eleven breathed, intrigued by the exotic technology and mildly impressed by Mike’s work. “That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, and so far it looks like I was right about the model. Should only take a couple more weeks to finish,” Mike carried on, watching as she approached it to lean down and ogle at all the wires and screws and gadgets connected together.

“And then what?” she asked, still captivated by all the colours and knobs.

“Well, ideally, next I’ll be making a transmitter,” Mike began, leaning his arms on his desk and gazing with amusement at her enraptured expression. “Then we’ll be putting together handheld radios for us to communicate with. The main radio will stay here at the headquarters.”

“Sounds like a lot of work,” Eleven commented, straightening up to look at him.

“I don’t mind it.” He shrugged, probably grateful for something to do with all the time on his hands. “The bombing is going to be held off until Steve feels prepared enough though, so hopefully we at least have the transmitter and a few handhelds completed by the new year.”

Eleven nodded, considering this information and realizing how close they were to operating banned equipment, technology none of them had seen in person before. The impending excitement of that experience produced bubbling anticipation in her gut, buzzing unremittingly like static. She swiftly urged herself to quell her enthusiasm as she remembered what she had originally come here for.

“Anyway, what was the idea you mentioned?” she asked, stepping away from the table.

“Oh, right,” Mike chirped, clapping his hands once. “Here, sit down.”

He motioned to the chair in the middle of the room which he had probably arranged meticulously before her arrival.

Eleven followed directions, taking a seat and then looking up at him expectantly. He was a creative person, she thought to herself, consistently coming up with new ideas. Intelligent too, according to his intricate knowledge of complicated devices like radios even though he didn’t have any real physical access to them. He needed to stop impressing her though, it was getting annoying.

“Okay, just take a good look at this stuff first, I guess,” he instructed, pausing before gesticulating dramatically, spiritedly towards the candle and the book. Eleven chuckled at his antics and obliged, then stared at him questioningly, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Mike turned away, rummaging through a cloth bag on the floor in the corner, and then moved towards her, a black blindfold in his hands. He then positioned himself behind her, carefully fastening the material over her eyes, tying it gently against the back of her head.

“What is this, fifty shades of gray?” Eleven muttered teasingly.

She heard Mike guffaw and snort, thoroughly enjoying her joke. It made her grin boastfully. She liked making people laugh but Mike was particularly receptive to her sense of humour.

“Yeah, I love domestic abuse,” he responded sarcastically.

Eleven snickered, then quieted, having plunged into darkness while Mike could see was making her uneasy. She felt vulnerable and at a disadvantage; both emotions that she was unfamiliar with. A gentle hand landed suddenly on her shoulder out of the void blackness and startled her, causing her to jerk in her seat.

“Sorry,” Mike immediately apologized, sounding contrite as he snatched his hand away. His voice was near her ear, igniting an involuntary shiver up her spine that she hoped he didn’t notice.

“It’s fine,” she absolved him, smiling in assurance despite the thundering of her heart.

“Have you ever moved anything with your eyes closed?” he asked, his tone soft as he clearly wanted to avoid surprising her again.

“Not that I’m aware of,” she joked as she sought out any relevant memories. When she was a child, she did wake up some mornings and found toys and books strewn across the room although she had put them away the night before, insinuating that she may have wreaked some havoc amidst her dreaming. But that was different and entirely unintentional.

“Then I guess this is your chance,” Mike replied, and encouraged her to try and lift the thick, blue hardcover book from its position on the surface of the table.

She pictured it vividly in her mind’s eye, recalling all the details she could about it and concentrating her energy upon its form. This was more difficult than she hoped, as she struggled to feel grounded in her powers without her eyes to rely on and instead her memory and imagination. She thought perhaps that visualizing the novel levitating up in the air would cause it to do so, but there was no reaction from Mike, suggesting to her that strategy was futile.

Eleven moved on to another tactic, and focused on feeling the weight of the book in her hands although they were resting motionlessly in her lap. She figured she had to be in touch with the mass of it, sense the vigor of the matter, the atoms within it and the empty space between them. As soon as she was certain she was well connected to its properties, she propelled the particles into the air, pushing aside the oxygen molecules that had lingered there before.

“Hey,” Mike called excitedly but delicately, again hyperaware of alarming Eleven. “You did it.”

She released her energy’s hold on the book and heard it thwack against the wood of the desk, confirming to her that it had been hovering above it.

“Careful,” Mike chided cautiously with a nervous laugh. “I do need that later.”

“Oops,” Eleven muttered and cringed, realizing that she would have to be more aware of how high exactly she was suspending things or how far she was launching things when she couldn’t see them. She wasn’t sure if that was truly possible though.

“Have you been practicing with starting fire?” Mike continued, apparently intent on barrelling through this practice session.

“Yeah, I’ve been burning buildings down all weekend,” Eleven deadpanned, her face purposefully blank.

“What?” Mike burst out, obviously concerned.

“It was a joke, oh my God,” she joked, laughing heartily at his distressed reaction.

“Right, good one,” he mumbled, irritation lining his words, but she heard his low sigh of relief.

“But yes, I’ve managed to melt a dozen candles thanks to lighting them so much,” Eleven informed him happily, content with how effortlessly she was now able to enkindle a flame.

“Awesome,” Mike replied, his grin audible. “But now you’ve got to do it blind.”

Eleven nodded solemnly, and returned to the intense energy that constantly hummed throughout the neurons of her brain. She pictured Mike’s candle, and took a similar approach as before, distinguishing and perceiving the elements of the item, familiarizing with its mass as if it were cradled in her fingers. Then she gathered up the heat within her, waiting for it to reach a point that made her blood feel like it was boiling and pumped it into the wick of the candle.

“Nice,” Mike exhaled and Eleven tugged the dark fabric from her eyes, joining him in admiring the spark she had conjured up and nodding approvingly. Mike was crouching beside her, leaning slightly on the armrest of her chair, their heads level.

“How long did that take?” she asked as she often lost track of time when she engrossed herself with the labyrinth of her mind. She refused to look at Mike because his face was quite close to hers. A little too close.

“The book took you a few minutes, but the candle was barely a minute at all.”

“Pretty good,” Eleven hummed, impressed with herself. She felt slightly faint, leaning back more in her chair and relaxing her limbs from the stiffness they had acquired in her concentration.

“Are you alright?” he queried, apprehension lacing his tone as he noticed her change in disposition, looking over her as if he might find an injury.

“Yeah, trying new things just makes me tired, I guess,” she soothed his worries, closing her eyes and taking some deep breaths.

“Well, don’t fall asleep,” he deterred her, lightly gripping her forearm as if to pull her back from slumber. “This chair can’t be that comfortable.”

“I won’t,” she claimed weakly, her head lolling to the side before she collapsed.

~ ~ ~

Eleven awoke dazed and confused, looking around at her surroundings and failing to recall how she got there. She was lying prone on the floor, cushioned by a quite thick sleeping bag, a fleece blanket thrown scrupulously over her body. Her green t-shirt was clinging to her back, a light sweat having dampened it. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and sat upright, spotting Mike who was reclining back in his desk chair, captivated by a textbook in his hands.

“What happened?” she croaked, then cleared her throat.

Mike swiveled around quickly, taking in her conscious figure. He discarded his book, left his seat and moved towards her, kneeling on the ground at her side.

“You kind of passed out,” he briefed her delicately, scanning her demeanor for further signs of illness.

“Oh.” Eleven frowned and looked away from him. “That’s embarrassing.”

“No, it’s not,” Mike promised, shrugging as if brushing the situation off his shoulders. His expression changed then, the muscles in his face tensing and his eyebrows falling towards each other. “I was a little worried about you, though.”

“How long was I out?” Eleven asked, examining the environment as if she would find a clue as to the time of day. There were no windows and she couldn’t find a clock, so her attempts were pointless.

Mike raised his wrist and glanced at the black watch secured around it, then back at her.

“A little less than an hour,” he replied, biting his lip. “A few minutes longer and I would have taken you to the hospital.”

“And what would you have told them?” she grinned playfully, her energy beginning to steady. “This telekinetic girl lit a fire and passed out?”

“Nah, I would have been more creative than that,” Mike asserted, smiling back at her, his features visibly relaxing. “I’m glad you’re okay though.”

His eyes bore heavily into hers, as if trying to convey a hidden meaning in his words. Eleven stared daringly back at him, falling thoughtlessly into the intense expanses of his irises. His expression darkened, a wave of fervor cascading over it, urging her closer to him as if magnetically. She felt his breath on her face and exhaled shakily at their nearness. There was tension circulating the air, weighing on them with its foreseeable release. Mike inched cautiously towards her.

“What is going on here?”

Max’s shrill voice assaulted the room, descending upon them with a manner of personal offense. The two sprung apart, Eleven moving rapidly backward and promptly banging her head against the wall behind her. Mike fell back on his ass, his head whipping around to face the intruder, but upon hearing Eleven’s small whimper in pain at hitting her skull, his attention whirled back towards her in concern.

“Nothing,” Eleven declared meekly, massaging at the spot on her head that was struck. “What are you doing here?”

Max lifted the velvet bag in her hand to bring their focus to it, still staring analytically between them, gaping unashamedly.

“It was my turn to pick up the radio parts,” she explained, her speech breathless as if in disbelief.

“That’s nice. Well, I was just leaving,” Eleven remarked, avoiding the eyes of everyone as she attempted to stand up.

“Hold on,” Mike dissuaded, a hand coming up and latching on her wrist. “We’re not sure you’re okay yet.”

“What do you mean?” Max demanded, stepping forward and scowling at Mike. “Did you hurt her?”

“No,” Eleven insisted on Mike’s behalf, rolling her eyes at her best friend’s behaviour. She continued, “I just got overwhelmed by my powers and fainted, that’s all.”

“You fainted?” Max asked, her eyes bulging.

“Yes, but I’m fine now and I’m going home,” Eleven proclaimed and got to her feet, shaking her arm from Mike’s grip. He followed.

“You don’t have to,” he told her, a slight blush colouring his cheeks and neck. “I don't want you passing out in the middle of the street. You can stay here if you want, it’s kind of late anyway."

For a second, Eleven wanted to swoon at the sweetness of Mike’s tone, the care evident in his countenance, but she caught herself.

“That’s alright, I'm feeling better now. And I have to work in the morning,” she replied, grateful for the excuse, then grinned appreciatively at him. “Thank you though.”

“Anytime,” he promised, returning the smile. They almost slipped into that emotive gaze once again, but Eleven escaped it, turning towards Max.

“Walk with me?” she requested, willing with her eyes that Max refrain from any sassy comments. She caught on and her stance loosened, nodding in affirmation.

Eleven thanked Mike again, who looked somewhat disappointed by her departure, as Max handed over the bag she had collected for him. They confirmed that they would see him the next day as another Party meeting was scheduled, and then disappeared onto the darkness of the street.

Eleven requested that they walk in silence, pledging to Max that if there was anything she actually needed to talk about, she would eventually. Max stared at her inquisitively for awhile, but ultimately dropped it.

She arrived home a little later in the evening than she would have preferred, considering she had a long day before her, so she hurriedly went through her bedtime routine and hustled to bed, seeking out sleep. But she quickly ran into an issue.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Mike. His sweetness, his patience, his generosity despite having so little to his name. His optimism despite his despondent reality of being jobless and homeless. She could see his face so clearly in her mind, the heartfelt smile he always had plastered to his face, his syrupy dark eyes baring his thoughtful energy so clearly, his voice effortlessly calming with soothing inflections.

She sunk so deeply into her daydream of him she could imagine him sitting tirelessly at his desk, shoulders hunched and focus unwavering as he studied his collection of manuals and books, fiddling with his new gadgets. Suddenly, she felt the office forming around her, as if she was there, as if she could reach out and touch those frizzy curls of dark hair on his head.

She could feel the concrete floor grounded beneath her feet, the material cool on her heels. She could hear the gentle, incessant whirr of electricity as it kept the single hanging lightbulb aglow. Mike’s scent tenderly invaded her nose, that classic chypre scent of cologne, a strange harmony of bright citrus and animalic moss, with his natural aroma, his indescribable pheromones lingering underneath.

It was starting to seem real, like she was anchored there and couldn’t leave the room. She tried to convince herself she was dreaming, but she was unable to alter the environment around her like she would have in a dream.

“Mike?” she called out hesitantly, feeling silly but unsure why. She was confused mostly, feeling stuck and a little frightened.

The boy startled, straightening in his seat. He looked curiously behind him, but didn’t seem to expect to find anything or anyone there. His eyes pierced straight through her, her presence obviously invisible to him. He shook his head in annoyance and rubbed his palms over his eyes before checking the time.

“Okay, it’s obviously time for bed,” he stated as if scolding himself and stood up from his chair, stretching his back as Eleven wondered if her fantasy got away from her or if she was somehow spying on Mike in an impalpable telepathic realm.

It started to feel wrong standing in that room as Mike was unrolling his sleeping bag out on the floor, preparing for bed, but she wasn’t sure how to leave. She found she was able to step around the room, but there was an impenetrable barrier preventing her from going out the door, an intangible one that seemed conjured up by her mind.

Mike had removed his shirt at this point, and Eleven flushed, avoiding looking in his direction as he didn’t know she was there, stuck in his room and it would be inappropriate to ogle him. She abruptly realized to get back home she would have to repeat the process that got her to Mike’s office, only she would think of herself, lying in bed in her tiny apartment.

After focusing for some time, Mike having switched the dim lightbulb off and drifted off to sleep by then, she opened her eyes and saw a sparse glare of moonlight seeping through her window and blanketing the foot of her familiar bed. She sighed in relief and exhaustion. She checked the time, finding it was four in the morning. She had to be up in three hours and it felt like she hadn’t slept a blink yet. In fact, she felt immensely more tired than she did when she first settled into bed.

Despite her mind humming with confusion, trying to make sense of what just happened, she decided sleep was priority so that she could be somewhat productive the next day and she promptly fell into a dreamless slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter eleven has to figure out wtf just happened.
> 
> also if u havent read the chapter i added to my other story u should go do that :p
> 
> see you guys next week :)


	6. didn't heed the warning signs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is from 'waves' by luna shadows.
> 
> the last week has flown by so much it feels like i just updated this lol this chapter is also a little bit of a tease sorry
> 
> i also feel like mike is a little ooc in this one but i liked it too much to change it lol
> 
> thanks for reading :)

“Something strange happened last night,” Eleven spoke slowly, still unsure of what exactly that something was and how to explain it and uncertain that telling Max about it would be a good idea.

Max gawked at her, the cheese sandwich she was about to take a bite out of freezing in her hands halfway to her mouth. They were both on a lunch break as it was dead in the restaurant that day, the most recent snowfall discouraging people from going anywhere they didn’t need to.

“Something happened with Mike?” she asked, breathlessly, a mixture of shock and excitement painting her face.

“No!” Eleven instinctively protested, then realized that was a lie. “I mean, sort of, not really. I had this bizarre dream, I guess.”

“Gross,” Max whined, cringing in disgust.

“Not like that,” Eleven groaned, annoyed by her best friend’s dirty mind. “It was just a dream that I was like in his room and it felt so real, like I was seriously there.”

Max hummed thoughtfully, then her face lit up.

“Maybe it was like astral projection,” she proposed, apparently well-informed about psychic abilities. “How did you do it?”

“Well I went to bed and I guess I started thinking about him,” Eleven began, gradually recalling the evening before.

“ _Gross_ , Eleven!”

“I’m going to kill you one day,” Eleven stated calmly, throwing one of the green grapes she was eating at the redhead who gracefully dodged it and started snickering.

“You said it, not me,” Max insisted, reveling in the teasing of the brunette before urging her to continue.

Eleven explained how the office seemed to slowly grow around her and how all her senses were active as if she was awake and alert, how she called Mike’s name and he reacted as if he heard her but seemed to believe he was imagining it due to exhaustion.

“I would definitely say that’s astral projection.” Max nodded after Eleven’s monologue and smirked. “That’s so cool, you could like spy on anyone.”

It was a casual statement, almost playful, but it hit Eleven like a pile of bricks. If she could spy on people without being anywhere near them physically, she could get information indirectly from officials about technology and their plans which would help develop strategies for the Party’s projects. She would have to tell Steve right away.

“Are you going to tell Mike that you accidentally stalked him?” Max asked playfully, her words thick with cheese and bread as she had finally stuffed her sandwich into her mouth.

“I don’t know. What would I even say?” Eleven mumbled, nibbling on a grape as she began feeling guilty for imposing on his privacy without his permission. She wanted to apologize, but where would she even start?

“Tell him how hot he is when he's shirtless,” Max suggested casually. When a blush flooded Eleven’s face within seconds, the redhead gaped at her.

“You watched him strip?” she exclaimed, acting scandalized.

“No, I looked away,” Eleven asserted, desperately trying not to recall that flash of skin she saw out of the corner of her eye. She also pushed away any niggling thoughts that indicated she may have been attracted to him. “I’m not a pervert.”

Max squinted her eyes at the brunette in disbelief.

“Right,” she drawled sarcastically.

Eleven ignored her, too distracted by her dilemma to pay any attention to Max’s mocking. She would definitely have to confirm that what happened was real so she could offer this new skill for the Party. She just didn’t know how to not come off as a major creep to Mike.

~ ~ ~

Eleven decided to come and see Mike early, before the meeting was scheduled to commence. That way, she could make the announcement that evening if she really was capable of astral projection and thus spying on anyone if she so chose.

As soon as she walked over the doorstep, she could hear many more voices than she expected. At first, she thought she got the time for the meeting wrong and she was late. Then she realized that whatever these voices were discussing was nothing of the political sort.

“Son of a bitch, just make a decision!”

“It would take a roll of 13 or higher to destroy this thing, what am I supposed to do?”

“Protection spell, obviously!”

“Are you kidding? Fireball, all the way!”

Eleven wandered into the meeting area to discover four grown men huddled around a board game on the floor, arguing more and more heatedly, too caught up in their dispute to notice her presence.

Dustin and Lucas were doing most of the quarrelling, directing some of it towards Will who looked both panicked and thoughtful, while Mike sat silently and listened. He held some sort of book in his hands, and on the board they surrounded were a couple of little monster like figurines.

“Okay! Fine, fine, I cast the fireball,” Will announced, throwing his hands up as if in surrender, and glancing towards Mike with a look of anticipation. Dustin and Lucas quickly quieted and stared at Mike as well with anxious eyes.

Mike nodded solemnly and dropped something on the board with a clatter, all the boys’ eyes following the object as if it would provide answers to all of life’s questions. Once the clattering stopped, the boys leaned forward collectively to examine it.

“Yes!” Dustin cried suddenly, Lucas and Will hollering in happiness as well, adorning their celebration with clapping their hands and high-fiving. Mike was smiling excitedly too but watched their cheering and rejoicing noiselessly on the sidelines. That’s when he looked over and finally recognized her existence, the slightest bit of surprise flickering across his face.

“Hey, El,” he called welcomingly, rising to his feet. The other boys settled abruptly, looking over and realizing there was another person in the room, observing their childishness.

“Um, hi,” Eleven responded hesitantly, feeling like an intruder as she interrupted the festivities.

“How are you feeling?” Mike asked, stepping towards her, his face transforming rapidly into an expression of inquisitive concern.

“Oh, I’m alright,” she assured him, shrugging it off. She had totally forgotten about fainting practically in his arms, too consumed by the revelation of her new ability.

“Good.” He nodded certainly, grinning at her as his demeanor relaxed, his shoulders visibly softening.

“What are you guys doing?” she couldn’t help but query after witnessing that energetic scene. She glanced curiously past Mike at the other boys still gathered around the board, wordlessly observing her and Mike’s exchange.

“Uh, Dungeons and Dragons?” Mike responded, cringing a little as he explained, apparently expecting her to, firstly, know what that was, and second, judge them horribly for participating in it. She was incapable of either of those things.

When she met his answer with a blank look, he continued. “It’s a role-playing game. Lucas found some old campaigns and character cards in his house and we’re sort of obsessed.”

“Sounds fun,” Eleven commented casually. In reality, she didn’t know what role-playing meant exactly. But they obviously appeared to thoroughly enjoy it, so she got the impression that it was a good time.

“Really?” Mike asked in astonishment, his eyebrows shooting up and his aura suddenly growing excited. “You could, like, play with us sometime. If, you know, like, if you want to, um, obviously.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other guys exchanging knowing looks and watching Mike interestedly. They mumbled a little to each other and giggled like teenaged boys. Eleven tried to will the heat blooming on her skin to cool down.

“Maybe,” she answered shortly, not wanting to encroach on an activity these guys were apparently bonding over. But she had to admit she was slightly attracted to this game due to how absorbed in it her teammates had been when she walked in. “I might want to try it out someday.”

“Sure,” Mike replied merrily, his eyes having latched onto her face unwaveringly.

“Anyway,” she mumbled, looking towards the floor as his gaze became overwhelming. “I was wondering if I could talk to you about something.”

“Okay,” he grinned, then paused and glanced over his shoulder at the guys, who promptly began making kissy faces at him. A redness swelled on his neck and cheeks as he turned shyly back towards Eleven. “In private, I guess?”

Eleven nodded affirmatively, her heart jerking somewhat at his embarrassment and her throat itching to tell him to ignore them and that there was no reason for him to feel uncomfortable. He moved his head suggestively towards the back where the office was and then turned to head towards there, Eleven following him as usual.

“What’s up?” Mike asked, a little less energetic than before as he sat heavily into his desk chair, looking up at her expectantly. That special glint still lingered in his eyes.

“Something weird happened to me last night,” she began slowly, wringing her hands as she came up with her words, avoiding his stare. “Did anything weird happen to you?”

He seemed taken aback by the question, but also appeared to remember experiencing something odd as well, a strange, unsure look casting over his face.

“That depends,” Mike replied slowly, gazing carefully at her. “What weird thing happened to you?”

“It’s… hard to explain,” she mumbled and sighed in frustration at herself. She sucked in a breath and decided to just come out with it, rushing out, “Did you hear my voice in your head last night?”

Mike blinked. Then swallowed. Then slowly nodded his head in affirmation. He raised a shaky hand to rub at his forehead, leaning forward in his seat.

“How did you do that?” he asked breathlessly, his eyebrows pursed as his eyes grew distant, his mind recalling the evening before. “It felt like you were in the room with me.”

“I guess I sort of was,” she admitted, biting her lip in fear of his reaction.

“What do you mean?” he inquired, growing more and more baffled.

“I mean, I think I astral projected to this office last night. I was able to see and hear and even feel everything, but you couldn’t see me because I wasn’t physically there,” she explained, watching him to gage his reception to this information. So far, he seemed neutral, still processing her description.

“I left as soon as I figured out how I could,” she promised apologetically. “I didn’t mean to spy on you or anything, I’m sorry.”

He paused for a second, then suddenly grinned at her and shook his head. Of course he wouldn’t care, Eleven realized, he was laidback and light-hearted about mostly everything. It was one of the reasons she felt herself drawn towards him all the time. She internally rebuked herself for being nervous to tell him, to expect him to be angry. She had yet to see him truly angry about anything.

“It’s fine,” he assured her easily, a spark glistening in his eye. “That’s cool, actually. Like, amazingly cool.”

Eleven couldn’t help but smirk, Mike’s emotions constantly contagious to her.

“It is pretty cool,” she agreed, a little excitement brewing in her. “I think it would come in handy for the Party.”

“For sure,” Mike confirmed, standing up and looking down at her. Eleven stepped back slightly, wary of any potential intimacy. “Steve’s going to be happy to hear about this.”

“I hope so,” Eleven voiced shyly. She still had that subtle desire for Steve’s acceptance, for her to impress him undoubtedly. She wasn’t sure why, but she wanted to make him proud. She wanted to make the whole Party proud.

“So,” Mike drawled, and a hint of anxiety picked up in Eleven’s gut at his tone. He moved closer, his voice dropping down marginally. “Does this mean you can snoop on me anytime you want?”

“No,” Eleven immediately denied, then corrected herself. “Well, yeah, I guess. But I won’t, don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?” he pried teasingly. “I might have to shower in my swim trunks from now on.”

Eleven ignored the heat that bubbled up her neck at the insinuation and somehow managed to confidently joke back. “Trust me, you’re not exactly intriguing enough to pique my interest.”

Mike mocked insult. “Excuse me, my life is plenty intriguing.”

“Right. Watching you read your books and build your radio is completely mind-blowing.”

“Hey, I do other things besides that.”

“I suppose I wouldn’t know. We haven’t exactly hung out outside of that context.”

_Where the hell did that come from?_

There was a shift in Mike’s disposition, his expression settling into something vaguely sultry. Eleven gulped, not sure if she liked where this could be going, but remained frozen in place. He shifted nearer, and the tension that thickened the air was familiar, the same pressure that weighed on them the evening before. Her throat tightened up, her heart pumping a little faster and her palms clamming up. She knew she should move away, but she was too enticed by what might come next to do or say anything.

“Well, maybe we should,” Mike suggested casually, as if he wasn’t affecting her as powerfully as he was.

“Yeah, maybe,” she croaked back.

“I think I’d like that. A lot,” he carried on and she couldn’t help but notice the drifting of his gaze towards her lips. She felt her stomach seize up with nerves but there was a tingling to that feeling that was irresistible.

“Me too,” she agreed and suddenly, with an undeniable giddiness, she welcomed what she assumed was her fate. Whatever Mike had in store for her, she would take it in stride.

He grinned, and she swore she saw him leaning forward, his intention obvious.

“Mike!”

Eleven gasped and stumbled back, knocked out of whatever reverie she had been sucked into. Mike cursed under his breath, she guessed due to being surprised, and looked over her shoulder. She spun around to find Dustin stood in the doorway, looking between them, shocked and slightly guilty.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked, a sneaky mixture of faux innocence and suggestiveness comprising his tone.

“Um,” Mike mumbled, his eyes flickering between Eleven and Dustin, unsure of what to say. Maybe he thought there wasn’t an appropriate answer to please them both. “No, not at all.”

Eleven nodded fervently to back him up, trying not to acknowledge the disappointment pouring through her veins due to evading what was possibly a monumental moment between her and Mike. A moment that might have defined the strange energy that passed between them, a validation that her interpretation of their closeness was correct.

Perhaps this was a sign that it was not to be.

“Well, we need to finish this campaign before everyone gets here,” Dustin informed him, already forgetting the strange scene he had walked in on.

“Right, let’s do that,” Mike agreed, pausing to force an awkward grin at Eleven before evacuating the room, leaving her staring after him. She nibbled nervously at her lip, her mind trying desperately to sort out what just happened and what to do about it.

After a moment, she left the office and followed after them. There was a half hour or so left before the meeting was set to start so she was unsure if she should leave and come back even though there was no reason or anything for her to do with her time. But she didn’t want to encroach on the boys’ gaming time.

She headed towards the door, passing the boys who were intensely focused on Mike’s face which was animated as he described the aftermath of their battle with something called a Demogorgon. He caught her eye as she went by and paused.

“El,” he called, ignoring the groaning that erupted from the other guys at his interruption. She turned and he smiled at her, that permanent softness lingering in his eyes. “You can stay, if you want. Until the meeting.”

She hesitated. But those eyes. They kept luring her in. She didn’t like it, but the warmth he managed to conjure up in her so effortlessly was too tempting to defy.

“Okay,” she agreed, grinning back at him. She walked over to one of the nearest chairs which were perpetually assembled in that circle and took a seat. When she noticed Mike was still watching her, she nodded at him to continue with his narration.

Eleven listened as he resumed his dramatic tale, vividly describing the last of their quest to retrieve some sort of important, mystical medallion that was sealed away in the depths of a monster-infested forest. She had to admit she was thoroughly entertained by Mike’s storytelling and the reactions and input from the other boys.

They had packed up the board and materials just before the other Party members began to arrive, but their energy was still heightened due to the excitement of accomplishing their campaign. As the older members chatted and took their seats, Eleven looked on as the boys agreed to meet up again soon for another campaign that they enthusiastically enlisted Mike to write up as he had executed this one admirably. They split up and descended upon the chairs, Mike looking over at Eleven and moving towards her. Her heart sort of, kind of soared.

“Dungeons and Dragons seems fun, right?” he asked, sitting in the chair beside her, apparently aware how attentive she had been to their game playing.

“Yeah, actually,” she confirmed, noticing the glow on his face, his delight reverberating off him as he listened to her answer. “You’re pretty good with your words. It’s quite entertaining.”

“Really? Thanks,” Mike replied, the slightest blush dusting his sharp cheekbones.

“You have to write the next one?” she queried and he nodded.

“I’ve got the time on my hands, so why not?” He shrugged, looking thoughtful.

Eleven looked away just in time to see Max enter the circle, meeting her gaze and wiggling her eyebrows jokingly, motioning towards Mike sitting next to her. Eleven rolled her eyes and shook her head warningly as Max approached.

“Well hello, lovebirds,” she crowed to Eleven’s horror. Mike coughed awkwardly next to her and shifted away a little, his face flooding red.

“Max, don’t,” she practically hissed in response, grabbing her wrist and tugging her roughly into the other chair next to her.

“What?” Max drawled naively, then eyed her best friend mischievously and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Did something happen? Did you tell him?”

“No and yes,” Eleven muttered, avoiding eye contact and shrinking into her seat.

“No and yes what?” Max sang, nudging her with her elbow.

“No, nothing happened, and yes, I told him,” she responded moodily, poking her in retaliation.

“God, that’s so boring. When are you going to make out already?” Max complained loud enough for Mike to hear and Eleven wanted to disappear.

“Would you quit it?” she requested, somehow remaining calm despite her humiliation. Max started to argue with her but was cut off by Steve commanding the attention of the room.

He greeted everyone warmly and updated the group on Mike’s progress with the radio which was steadily reaching completion. He thanked everyone for their contributions for that project, adding that they would continue to retrieve as many parts as possible from their insider for as long as possible. Steve then segued to discussion of the more recently announced project, welcoming any new questions or statements that people had come up with since the initial disclosure.

Billy spoke first, making it known that he was an avid supporter of this decision, and Nancy and Barb mentioned that they had come to terms with it. Jonathan remained silent and Eleven couldn’t tell if that was a good or a bad thing.

“I don’t know about this ‘Chief Hopper’ guy,” Dustin mentioned, crossing his arms, and Steve sighed.

“All you need to know is that his daughter died because he couldn’t afford the proper healthcare for her,” Steve elaborated. “Just like most of us, he recognizes that the government is at fault for his loss and suffering.”

Everyone nodded solemnly in understanding and Dustin decided that their insider was worthy of his trust after all. After a little more conversation and questions for Steve which he was able to answer composed and confidently, he retreated to his chair and opened the floor to the group. Nobody made a move to conduct a discussion so they sat in silence for a moment or two, Eleven completely forgetting the discovery she had personally made.

“I think Eleven had something to say,” Mike suddenly spoke up, startling Eleven. She looked over and he was smiling at her in encouragement.

“Oh, right,” she remembered. She looked over at Steve, fiddling with her fingers in anticipation for her announcement. “It turns out, I can astral project.”

Steve’s thick eyebrows fell together, and he gave her a blank stare. “What does that mean?”

“Um, it’s like I can spy on people with my mind. I can see them and their surroundings and what they’re doing without physically being there,” she clarified, and she noted the faces of the Party members morphing into impressed expressions, a little bit of pride sparking in her.

“How do you know?” Steve asked, standing up from his seat as if to process the information.

“Um,” she froze. How could she tell the leader of the group that she was obsessively thinking about Mike because she may have the tiniest bit of a crush on him and that accidentally transported her to his office?

“She accidentally spied on me,” Mike spoke up.

 _That’s how_ , Eleven guessed. She looked anxiously towards Steve as if he would catch on to the emotional charge that caused her astral projection.

“Alright, wow,” he responded, simply accepting the explanation. He tilted his head and grinned at Eleven, looking at her with esteem. “Have you been practicing this?”

Eleven shook her head bashfully. “No, I don’t know anyone it would be useful to observe.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, contemplation taking over his visage. “I can probably get some photos of people who might provide us with some helpful information over the next few weeks.”

“Sounds good to me,” Eleven approved, smiling as Steve recognized her profound value to their organization.

The rest of the group were looking at her curiously, but she didn’t appreciate their gaze as much. They seemed either confused or intimidated by her. Besides Max and Mike of course. Mike was watching her with as much pride as Steve, but his expression was also filled with affection. He still had that radiance to him but it was as if he was casting it off him and enveloping her in it. She couldn’t tell if it made her want to yell or dance or melt into a puddle, all she knew was she felt more and more powerless to her emotions every minute she spent with him. But she decided she was beginning to be alright with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like i said, its a tease. but the next chapter is a GOOD ONE i promise. i just wanted there to be a lot of build up before we get to the good stuff lol
> 
> as always leave a kudos if u liked it and let me know what you guys think, see you next week :)


	7. my darker side, i'll find your light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is from 'darker side' by rhodes.
> 
> this last week also flew by so fast, it's insane. but im home now and my writing should be back on schedule right away which means my other story will be updated pretty soon as well, so watch out for that!
> 
> im actually SO excited for u guys to read this chapter. its been a long time coming, lets just say.
> 
> i dont like leaving my supporting characters one-dimensional, so this chapter serves as an expansion on mike's history and character.
> 
> i hope u all like it, thanks for reading :)

The brick wall was silent, unfeeling. Obviously, because it was a wall. But as Eleven rested her hand where she knew the mortar concealed the presence of forbidden materials, that old saying came to her mind.

_If these walls could talk._

The only witness thus far to the Party’s illegal activities besides the members themselves was this lifeless, unassuming structure. Hopefully, it would stay that way.

It was her night to retrieve the smuggled items for the radio, and this was a completely different experience from her first time. She felt much more of a part of the Party than she did a few weeks ago, she had gotten much closer to some of the members than she had been before. One member particularly, she admitted to herself.

Eleven plucked the velvet pouch from its hidden home, the fabric more worn than before due to being passed between so many hands, then headed back, almost forgetting to return the brick responsible for shielding the Party’s secret from the world.

The idea of getting to see Mike had made her a little overexcited, she supposed. She hadn’t been able to be alone with him since the last Party meeting a week ago as work had gotten super busy. She was getting home only eight hours before she had to get up again to do the same thing over the next day. She was overworked and overtired. But tonight she was also trembling with giddiness.

Eleven had come to terms with the fact that she was aching for something to transpire between her and Mike. She hadn’t decided what that might entail or look like, but every time she saw him she felt they were getting closer and closer to something happening. Some magical touch or burst of fireworks. Maybe she was getting ahead of herself.

She hurried along to the warehouse, this time expecting the low lighting when she walked in. A hum of anticipation coursed through her, but the feeling quickly transformed to mild dread when she heard a loud crash from Mike’s office. Eleven rushed over, poking the door ajar and peering in just in time to see Mike angrily throwing a stack of books off of his desk and onto the floor. Then his hands came to his head, grasping and pulling at his dark curls of hair.

Eleven stepped into the room with concern.

“Hey,” she called softly, her eyebrows falling towards each other as she tried to make sense of what was going on. He whirled around in surprise at her arrival, his face red and his lips clearly raw from being incessantly gnawed at. She grew more worried at the looks of him. “Are you okay?”

He sighed, his hands dropping to his sides as he turned away from her, dropping into his chair at the desk.

“What are you doing here?” he asked dryly, not seeming at all interested in her answer.

“I have parts for the radio,” she replied gently, confused by his attitude. She moved further into the room, carefully placing the velvet bag onto the desk. It was giving her flashbacks to when she first spoke to Mike, when she initially thought he was an intruder she would have to take down.

“Thanks,” he muttered, still refusing to look at her.

They were silent, Eleven unsure what to do. She couldn’t just leave him like this, she was starting to care about him more than that, but she also didn’t want to bother him or cross a line somehow.

“What’s going on?” she queried warily, awaiting some sort of explosion from him due to her prying.

She thought he wasn’t going to respond, at first.

“Just this stupid radio, I guess,” he mumbled, hanging his head.

“Is there something wrong with it?” Eleven asked, her eyes glancing at the mound of assembled parts, noticing that it was beginning to really resemble a radio. She didn’t notice any issues with it, but she wasn’t exactly an expert.

“No,” he replied, his voice becoming more audible. “But it’s driving me crazy.”

“Why?” she pressed, wanting to be able to be there for him but knowing she wouldn’t be able to unless she found out what was wrong.

“This time of year is tough for me,” he answered shortly. “And the radio doesn’t help.”

“Okay.” She nodded, understanding that the holidays resulted in more depression than happiness for many people. “Well, can I help?”

He didn’t respond for a moment, settling down into stewing silence again. Eleven felt the tension in the air, but for once didn’t feel like running from it. She wanted to be better than that now, for him.

“My grandfather died around this time a few years ago,” Mike stated, unmoving.

“Oh,” she uttered breathlessly. As her mind searched for words to say or things to do in this situation, Mike turned around in his seat to finally look at her. Instinctually, she grabbed the other chair in the room and dragged it close to him to sit down, feeling like he might want someone to be close to him at the moment.

“He had been teaching me about technology since I was a little kid. He didn’t want our generation to forget about it,” Mike began to explain, his tone unexpectedly void of emotion. “I was closer to him than either of my parents, he was more of a father figure to me than my actual father ever was. He showed me where he stashed his manuals and books and things, in case anything ever happened to him. I didn’t think it would ever come to that.”

He paused, his breathing shaky and Eleven’s heart throbbed.

“We had just started putting Christmas decorations up. Everyone was in a good mood, I was getting along with my parents better than usual. Then there was pounding on the door. My father went to open it and  a group of men, federal agents, came barging in and told us they wouldn’t hurt us, they just wanted my grandfather. For some reason, he wasn’t afraid. He came forward and they listed his crimes, calling him a traitor for teaching people about technology, for sharing his knowledge. I don’t know how they found out. Then one man stepped forward and claimed that the punishment for his misconducts was death.”

Eleven gasped softly, her throat closing up as she thought of a younger Mike having to witness all of that, having to experience that at a time that was supposed to be joyful. She had no idea how he was usually so positive, a person she knew would try to support her whenever and however she needed. Eleven felt horrible not knowing that he needed that same comforting himself. She reached out, hesitantly grabbing one of his hands and pulling it into her lap, mindlessly stroking it with her thumb.

“They took him outside. He didn’t even struggle or try to deny anything. I guess he wanted to die with dignity. My mom tried to cover my ears but I still heard the shot,” Mike continued. He finally looked up at her, tears gleaming in the corners of his eyes. “It was Martin Brenner. Martin Brenner killed my grandfather.”

Eleven gaped at him, realization seeping into her. Martin Brenner had been elected president a couple of years back. He was a scientist with no political experience, but he was rich and the public naively believed he would change the economy to help the lower and middle classes, unaware of his horrific misdeeds of the past. But that wasn’t the only reason Eleven was shocked.

“Martin Brenner was the lead scientist at the laboratory where my mother was experimented on. He was the researcher that ran the whole operation,” Eleven confessed, Mike’s eyebrows shooting up at the admission. “He’s the one that drove my mother to insanity. Martin Brenner took my mother away from me.”

“El,” Mike responded soft-heartedly, his surprise at the connection evident, but his sympathy was equally apparent.

“Martin Brenner ruined our families,” Eleven concluded, her voice faltering and tears reaching her eyes as well that she tried and failed to blink away.

Mike didn’t say anything, pulling his hand from her grip and instead spread his arms wide to reach forward and embrace Eleven, holding her close as the tears fell. She tucked her face into his neck, forgetting to care that she might be smearing tears and snot on him as she sniffled.

She was overwhelmed by the recognition that she and Mike were suffering from a similar loss caused by the same person. They were both driven by the same revenge, the same hurt, the same anger. They were more alike than Eleven had ever expected them to be.

When she had calmed down and her cries had stifled, she pulled slowly away from Mike’s arms. He looked at her with so much concern and care when it was originally he who needed to be consoled. She was suddenly overcome with conflicting emotions as he stared at her, with gratefulness for having met him, with anger that he had been hurt so horribly, with admiration for the sanguine person he became despite the sorrow of his past.

She surged abruptly forward, tilting her head to meet his lips with hers, her hands coming up to cradle his jaw. He froze but easily relaxed into the kiss, one hand settling softly on her waist and the other stretching up to cup her cheek. Eleven realized as she savoured the moment that what she had been waiting for had finally come to light, although the circumstances were not exactly ideal. She hoped it conveyed somehow everything she was feeling, expressed her attraction to him, and verified the connection they had.

Eleven pulled away after only a couple of beats, her cheeks aflame as she avoided Mike’s eyes, her hands falling back into her lap. Her head was reeling as she tried to grasp what she had just initiated, surprised at her own courage but pleased that Mike hadn’t been repulsed and instead seemed to reciprocate. There was fear prodding at the back of her mind though, wondering what this meant and what was supposed to come next. She had never experienced anything like this before.

“Was that supposed to make me feel better?” Mike asked softly, a hint of a joke inflecting his words, his hand still resting on her waist.

Eleven looked up to see a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. The lips she had just tasted for the first time. He appeared radiant, like he did after playing that board game with the boys. There was a glow to his cheeks and a glint in his eye and a perkiness that was not there when Eleven had originally arrived.

“Yes. No. Maybe?” she squeaked, suddenly shy as she bit her lip. She couldn’t not notice Mike’s eyes drift in that direction and it only caused her to blush further.

Where her usual confidence and assertiveness had gone, she had no idea. It was like Mike transformed her into a giggling schoolgirl with an inability to think of anything besides being close to him. The unfamiliarity of the feeling was confusing to her and she didn’t know how to react. She wanted to run away to sort these new emotions out, but she also didn’t ever want to leave Mike’s side. There was a battle going on in her brain.

“Well, thanks, I guess,” Mike said, the statement itself was awkward but his own demeanor was light and airy, like he was floating, and nothing could bring him down.

“Um, you’re welcome,” she mumbled, fiddling with her sweater sleeves to distract her from Mike’s heavy gaze on her.

She saw him start to lean forward again, his hand coming up to frame her face, but she leaned away and stood up from her chair, afraid of getting lost in this.

“Uh, I think I should get going,” she announced quietly, not truly wanting to leave but believing it might be best. She needed to sort this all out, preferably alone. So much for not wanting to run away anymore.

“Do you have to?” he asked, standing up alongside her and sounding a little like a child not wanting to leave the toy store just yet, his eyes boring into hers almost desperately. It only frightened her a little more.

“Yeah,” she affirmed, then cringed, acknowledging the impression it gave that she wanted to flee right after kissing him. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Mike swallowed, smiling gently at her although his disappointment remained obvious.

She nodded as she evaded his gaze, unsure if she should say something, give an explanation. Eleven found she was out of her element with this one. She gathered up her bag that she had dropped on the floor, then remembered the reason why she had found herself in this office again this evening and looked towards the velvet bag.

“What did you get today?” she asked, gesturing towards the desk, her curiosity overpowering her urge to bolt.

Mike cleared his throat and hesitated, probably taking a moment to switch gears from exploring his emotional distress and then kissing a girl to focusing on building a radio again. He stepped closer to the table and loosened the top of the pouch, pulling out a boxy, polished slab of brown panelling, as well as a large black knob and two smaller cream coloured knobs.

“Finishing touches,” he commented, staring down at the objects in his hands and appearing to contemplate them.

“Cool,” Eleven replied softly, watching him carefully, the gears that were whirring in Mike’s head almost visible. He sat down in his desk chair and started shuffling through his books, pulling out a ragged manual and flipping it open, apparently entering full radio making mode. She took that as her cue to leave and slipped noiselessly out the door.

She walked leisurely home, her mind so occupied that she almost tripped a couple of times. She wanted to think over her relationship with Mike and where it might go and whether she was even prepared mentally for that. But at the same time, she just wanted to dive in while her feelings were simple and straightforward and clear; all she knew for sure was she wanted to be close with him and kiss him and hold hands and cuddle. Did it have to be anymore complicated than that?

A part of her believed, however, that this might be too much of a distraction. She didn’t join the Party to make friends let alone to develop a romantic interest. Plus, what they were doing was risky business. What if something goes wrong during a mission in the future and she loses Mike or Mike loses her and it ruins them? What if she chooses Mike over her own safety, over the security of the Party?

Eleven didn’t want to lose sight of her main goals just because a cute boy might like her. She was more than that, she was better than that. She needed to focus on her duty, her responsibility to her mother; to find justice and punish those accountable for her suffering. She wanted to make her mother proud.

As far as she could tell, Mike was not a part of that picture.

~ ~ ~

A couple of days passed. Eleven hadn’t seen Mike since the kiss, not necessarily because she was avoiding him but if she hadn’t been busy with work that might have been the case. Max had noticed her relatively new silent cogitation at work, she could tell. She wasn’t joking as much, she wasn’t engaging with customers with the charm that she only brought out to lure tips out from them. Max must have known that she wasn’t in the mood or ready to talk about it though, and thankfully let it be.

But now there was another meeting, and Eleven would have to see Mike and she didn’t know what to expect. She was glad she was given time to mull things over, but she had yet to reach a conclusion. She couldn’t help wondering if Mike had also spent his time overthinking everything, if he was also unsure or if he knew what he wanted and what he wanted was her. Or maybe it was not her.

Selfishly, she hoped it was not the latter.

Max and Eleven walked to the meeting together that late afternoon in relative silence, although Max had a reassuring arm thrown around her shoulders the whole way, clearly wanting to comfort her but knowing that discussing whatever was going on was not going to help.

As soon as they walked in, she caught sight of Mike. He didn’t notice her arrival, caught up in an animated discussion with Steve at the far end of the circle. The two girls took their seats, Eleven only slightly intentionally leading Max over to chairs that were surrounded by seats that had already been occupied by people.

As everyone settled in, Mike was the last to find a chair. He finally saw her as he turned away from Steve, pausing minutely before giving her a small wave and a soft smile. Eleven grinned unsurely back at him, lifting a hand to wave as well, a dusting of pink rising to her cheeks.

“Okay, guys,” Steve commenced the meeting, clapping his hands to grab the attention of his audience. He was trying and failing to hide the eager smirk that was encompassing his face. “We have some really great news today.”

Everyone was quiet as Steve took a beat in an obvious attempt to build anticipation in the group.

“The radio has been completed.”

People immediately started clapping, the applause accompanied by a little polite cheering, excited smiles spreading across the room. Eleven looked over and saw Mike blushing wildly as much of the cheering was directed at him, his pride shining through.

Steve went back to the office and lugged the radio out, the size of it fitting snugly in his arms. It was square and glossy around the sides, but pale and basic on the front where the knobs Eleven had brought had been installed. He set it down on an end table Eleven hadn’t noticed had been brought out from the office, and everyone stood from their seats and flocked towards it, curious fingers reaching out to touch it.

With all eyes on him, Steve turned the radio on and everyone listened in amazement to the crackling that erupted from the speakers, the sound of the radio trying to catch a signal. It was a little like magic to a group of people who had never experienced any form of technology in their lives. Steve turned one of the knobs carefully, until finally a clear voice rang out, apparently a police officer describing someone who was disturbing the peace downtown and calling for back up.

Cheers exploded in the room once again, and people started chatting excitedly amongst themselves, everyone too occupied with the excitement of it all to formally return to the meeting. Eleven noticed Mike standing to the side, a pleased grin gracing his lips as he watched the celebration of his accomplishment, and she decided she couldn’t not talk to him. Even if she was never sure what the right words to say were.

“Hey,” she greeted after approaching him. He looked down at her and she saw a wave of uncertainty cross his face, but she carried on. “Great job. I think everyone’s really proud of you.”

“Thank you,” he replied, gazing at her with that sparkle that had become typical of him. “My work’s not done yet, though.”

“That’s probably a good thing. It keeps you busy.”

“Yeah, distractions can be a good thing.”

She blanched, her smile falling from her face. She briefly wondered if he had read her mind somehow, trying to figure out how he knew the one thing that was keeping her from plunging into the vibrant energy that burned between them. Her fear of being distracted by him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning, stepping closer to her as if she might fall over and he would need to be there to catch her, his concern causing her stomach to flutter.

“Nothing,” she assured him, shaking her thoughts from her head. “Distractions are… yeah. They’re, they can be. Good. Sure.”

Her nonsense mumbling and difficulty to find words made her cringe, but Mike just seemed entertained by her, watching her with admiration. As if she was the most interesting person he had ever met.

“Right. Good,” he echoed her with a chuckle and then changed the subject a little tentatively. “So, I think we should schedule another practice session. This time, you should have to light the candle from a distance.”

“Okay.” She nodded, remembering that she couldn’t avoid Mike anyway because they had important work to do together still. They were partners and it would be immature of her to let this new dynamic between them scare her away from preparing for what was truly important. The bombing.

“I don’t have too much going on since I haven’t gotten any parts for the transmitter yet, so you can come by anytime,” Mike continued, visibly content with her affirmative answer and perhaps eager for them to hang out again.

“Sounds good,” Eleven grinned up at him. She wanted to say something, do something else before ending the conversation. But whatever she was thinking of, whatever she was finding hard to stop herself from pursuing was probably inappropriate at that moment, with a ton of people crowded nearby, so she swallowed it down.

Eleven cleared her throat, nodded at him one more time, and then turned and walked away, back over to where people were fiddling with the radio with wide eyes and leaning in to listen with astounded expressions.

Mike looked a little too alone where he was on the sidelines, watching everyone’s reactions and conversations about his epic contribution to the Party and anxiously moving back and forth on the balls of his feet, and Eleven wanted to change that. But she couldn’t, and she didn’t. Because she was a coward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope u guys didnt think eleven would give in /that/ easily lmao. 
> 
> but this chapter does serve as a very important bonding moment for mileven, obviously. i think that is my reasoning for why things kind of start to move fast in the next couple of chapters.
> 
> next chapter is also a favourite of mine and its decently long too so look forward to next week!
> 
> thanks again for reading and as always leave a kudos if u liked it and let me know what u think :)


	8. never danced like this before (we don't talk about it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is from 'stolen dance' by milky chance, aka, one of my favourite songs of all time. 
> 
> its so weird that im updating my stories within 24 hours of each other. 
> 
> this chapter is pretty long compared to my usual ones like there's almost double the amount of words i usually aim for each chapter. i just didn't couldn't find a natural pause to stop it though, so there you have it.
> 
> trigger warning for a little bit of sexual harrassment later on. its very minor but i know even that can be upsetting for people because #metoo. i put in a little asterisk (*) to signal the section but its pretty small. 
> 
> i personally really like this chapter so i hope u guys do too! thanks for reading :)

It was a couple of days later and someone was banging mercilessly on Eleven’s apartment door, causing her to startle where she was sitting on her bed, peacefully reading a book. She had managed to have a reasonable shift that day, for once able to get home before dinnertime rather than the midnight snack, so she was spending her time relaxing as best as she could.

Based on the urgency of the knocking, she would guess that they were either dying or the police had come to arrest her for conspiracy. Honestly, she wouldn’t be surprised by either of those possibilities.

She hurried over to end the noise, holding her breath as she unlocked the door and inched it open, allowing a flurry of red hair to tear past her and into the room. It was Max. Eleven exhaled.

“I have some awesome news,” she declared, dropping her purse and coat onto Eleven’s bed as if she too lived there.

“Hello to you, too,” Eleven muttered, closing the door.

“We’re going out this weekend,” Max replied, ignoring her comment, her smile wide.

“What does that even mean?” Eleven asked, following her into the room and falling back onto her bed with a huff, crossing her arms. They never did anything besides work and meet with the Party.

“We’re going to a club downtown this weekend,” the redhead explained, plopping down beside her and criss-crossing her legs, her excitement reverberating off her.

“Why would we do that?” Eleven inquired, a look of flabbergast and confusion invading her face and Max scoffed.

“You should be happy!” Max insisted, then, at Eleven’s look of disgust, she rolled her eyes and sighed. “I was talking to Steve at the meeting about how we needed more recruits, specifically people with money. I convinced him that we could go out on the town and use our charms to get some rich boys on our side.”

Eleven blinked.

“I have _so_ many questions. First, are you insane?”

“Most of the time, yes. But this isn’t that irrational of an idea. Plus, Steve said he would take care of the cost, so we don’t have to pay for anything. We can get drunk and not give a shit for the first time in forever. Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“Steve wants us to use our _charm_? Does he even know who he’s talking about?” Eleven asked, appalled by the idea.

“Yes, and he has confidence in us. Besides, we’re super hot so charm is helpful but not necessary. Seducing guys is easy, trust me.”

“What are you talking about?” Eleven’s exasperation continued to grow. “I have barely any experience with boys.”

“It’s not that hard. We’ll practice,” Max assured her soothingly before brightening up. “Speaking of which, Mike and Lucas are coming with us.”

“What? Why?” Eleven demanded, her eyebrows falling together. Now she was really concerned. A night out, with alcohol and dancing and whatever else combined with Mike sounded like a recipe for disaster to her.

“If any boys try to pull anything on us, they’ll be there to help,” Max replied, her face growing confused by Eleven’s repulsed reaction. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Ugh,” Eleven groaned, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She had yet to tell Max about anything that had happened with Mike. She wasn’t sure when she was planning to, probably just avoiding the subject until things between them were more certain. But she supposed that wasn’t an option now.

“Mike and I kissed,” she confessed, biting her lip as she opened her eyes. Max’s face gradually transformed through a variety of complex emotions, beginning with befuddlement and quickly arriving at understanding and enthusiasm.

“Wait, what?” Max practically screeched, standing up from her spot and excitedly waving her arms around.

“A little more than a week ago, we kissed.” Eleven shrugged, avoiding her friend’s interrogative stare. “He was telling me about his family. His grandfather was killed by Martin Brenner.”

“Oh shit,” Max breathed, and her composure stilled. She had learned Eleven’s story ages ago, and the connection there did not get past her.

“Yeah.” Eleven nodded, then cringed at herself. “I got caught up in the moment. Sort of emotional, I guess. And I kissed him.”

“Okay,” Max replied surprisingly calmly, her eyebrows falling together. “So, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know,” she exhaled, fiddling with her fingers. “I guess I got scared. We didn’t really talk about it, so now we’re at a weird standstill I think.”

“That’s why you’ve been acting so weird,” Max concluded quietly, returning to her seat beside her friend. Suddenly, she smirked slyly up at Eleven. “This is even better then.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s an opportunity to talk to him and figure things out.”

“While we’re getting wasted and trying to seduce guys? _That’s_ a good time to figure things out with Mike?” Eleven deadpanned, semi-joking.

“I said _maybe_ ,” Max defended herself, laughing a little. She shuffled closer on the bed, looping an arm around Eleven’s shoulders and pulling her against her side. “Let’s just plan to have fun then. We’ll deal with all the Mike drama another time. Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t believe I’ve agreed to your little scheme yet in the first place,” Eleven reminded her playfully, poking her in the side.

“Oh, you will.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.”

~ ~ ~

“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this,” Eleven stated in annoyance, strapping a black heel around her ankle.

“Oh please, you need this. You work too hard,” Max replied stubbornly. She was staring at her reflection in the mirror, entirely focused on perfectly smudging her lips red, hyperaware that she would permanently stain her skin if she were to smear her lipstick at all.

They were at Eleven’s apartment, dressing and drinking to prepare for the night ahead. They had gone out to buy outfits for their outing the day before, plus all the alcoholic courage they might need. Eleven had purchased a red dress that snugly clung to her hips and cut off halfway down her thigh. The neckline was a bit steep for her liking but Max had insisted she had never looked better. Max herself had chosen a black dress of a similar style, except it had a daring slit running up her thigh.

Max was usually not the type to meticulously plan her outfit and spend hours on her makeup, but this instance had changed her into an expert on all things girly. Eleven had an inkling that maybe it was Lucas’ presence that had lured this hidden side of her out of the woodwork.

“Is there any wine left?” Max asked after smacking her lips and dabbing them with a tissue.

“Hardly,” Eleven responded shortly. They had bought a bottle of red wine to share and within an hour or two it was almost entirely gone. Needless to say, Eleven was starting to feel the effects. The room was slightly spinning and her lips felt a little looser than usual.

“Hand it over,” Max demanded, reaching a hand out to receive the bottle that Eleven easily gave up.

The plan was to meet the boys at a prestigious club downtown called the Snowball. It was very popular with talented bands providing live music every night and a special featured drink with a thin layer of liqueur on top that the bartenders lit on fire.

Eleven had been thoroughly trained by Max over the previous couple of days on what to say to boys, what body language to use and the red alarms that suggested a guy was a creep that must be avoided. She was feeling more confident about approaching strangers and making conversation, but she hated how fake it was going to feel. Pretending to be interested in guys seemed tedious.

She still hadn’t decided what to do about Mike; what she would say to him, how she would act. At this point she determined it would be futile to plan ahead as alcohol had invaded her blood and eased her mind of any worries, which meant she would probably stay true to what her heart desired. But although her inhibitions were almost nowhere to be found, a lingering sour taste of anxiety in her stomach assured Eleven that she probably wouldn’t say or do anything to embarrass herself.

“Hey,” Max called, interrupting her train of thought and drawing her focus to Max’s face which was both serious and sympathetic. She grinned softly, clearly aware of Eleven’s mindset at the time. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Right.” Eleven nodded. Max passed the nearly empty bottle back to her after taking a swig and Eleven took it with a shaky hand, raising it to her lips for another sip. She cringed at the bitterness that clung to the back of her tongue and throat. “Except that I’m going to have the worst headache tomorrow.”

“Yeah, but that’s like hours away. Who cares?” Max countered, snatching back the bottle and tilting her head back to get the last couple of drops out.

“Who cares?” Eleven echoed, beginning to giggle as words started to lose their meaning. She was swaying quite a lot and only barely caught herself from falling onto the floor from her spot on the bed.

“Who cares?!” Max laughed back, her voice increasing in volume as she fell dramatically onto the couch across from her friend. They laughed hysterically for no apparent reason for a few minutes until Max finally recovered and jumped to her feet.

“Okay, it’s almost nine thirty, we have to go. Are you ready to go? Do you need water first? Let’s have some water first,” the redhead slurred out in jumbles of incoherent words. She went to the sink to fill up some glasses.

Eleven took some deep breaths, willing her stomach to settle and deciding she would not let herself have any more drinks that night, she was already way too buzzed and that never ended well for her. She drank the water that Max handed her after spilling half of the cup on the carpet (which they promptly found hilarious), and then they were off.

~ ~ ~

The air was frosty, biting at their bare legs as they approached the entrance to the club, their identification cards already out and ready to show the bouncer. Eleven was grateful that they had chosen to wear their coats unlike way too many other women that were too preoccupied with showing off their outfits at all times to stay warm. December had descended so the sprinklings of snow on the ground and the sub-zero temperatures were to be permanent for a few months.

There was a slight line that they had to wait in, playing silly word games and goofing off to distract them from their gradually numbing limbs.

“Do you think the guys are here already?” Max asked, pausing to stand on her tiptoes and survey the crowd around them.

“Who cares?” Eleven joked, which Max responded to with a glare.

She opened her mouth to reply, inevitably with some sort of snotty comment, but a hand landed suddenly on her shoulder, causing her to spin around. The severity of her expression told Eleven she was preparing to punch whoever had dared to touch her without permission, but once she registered who the offender was, her expression rapidly softened.

“Hey,” Lucas greeted them, mostly Max, with a happy grin and pulled the redhead in for a hug which made Eleven’s eyebrows shoot up. When they drew away from each other, he continued. “Perfect timing, right?”

As Max replied and launched into conversation Eleven’s eyes moved searchingly past Lucas to find Mike stood awkwardly a foot or so away. When he realized he caught her attention, his face brightened up and he stepped a little closer.

“Hi,” Mike practically breathed, and she couldn’t help but catch that his eyes drifted to her toes and raked agonizingly slowly up her naked legs before flicking back to her eyes. He licked his lips.

“Hey,” she replied, feeling similarly out of breath from the veiled want she detected on his face. He was wearing dark jeans and sneakers and a coat, and she imagined, since he was a guy, that there was probably simple t-shirt underneath that.

“How’s it going?” Mike asked politely after clearing his throat. For the first time, Eleven was noticing how he was towering over her. She had to tilt her head back slightly to make eye contact with him.

“You’re so tall,” she commented, her eyebrows falling together. It suddenly occurred to her that she would have to go up on her very tiptoes to kiss him while standing up if she ever wanted to. Which she did want to.

“Really? I had no idea,” Mike responded sarcastically, a small grin appearing on his lips.

“I would have to go on my tiptoes to kiss you,” she continued bluntly.

In a split second and a mystery of science, somehow all of the colour plunged from Mike’s face and then rapidly returned with a vengeance and tinted his skin pink.

“How drunk are you?” he queried carefully, his eyebrows coming together in a frown and a hint of concern accenting his expression.

Before she could respond, they had to move up in line causing them to reach the front. They all showed their identification before finally entering a lovely warmth that greatly contrasted the bitter cold outside.

The venue was rustic, stylized primarily with warm walnut wood furniture and simple decorations. There was an area with bucolic picnic tables for sitting and drinking at, with a bar a short distance away and a couple more identical ones spread out throughout the building. The dancefloor was large and busy with flashing lights pouring down upon It. On the stage a live band was playing spiritedly, the music very bass-centric but the singer’s voice casual and skillful. It was a nice contrast and Eleven was itching to dance which was a pleasant surprise to her. She blamed it on the booze.

 The group shuffled over to the coat check off to the side of the seating area, weaving skillfully around dozens of drunk people, to shed their jackets. When they returned to a less cluttered space, the boys were finally able to assess the girls’ outfits and their expressions were priceless.

Mike and Lucas stared at the girls, their eyes roaming a little excessively, then looked at each other to exchange some silent message, and then went back to ogling the girls. Eleven knew she was blushing, but that wine made it impossible for her to mind it.

“You guys look-,” Lucas began, pausing to find the right word.

“Pretty,” Mike finished for him, his admiration kind and soft as he smiled gently in Eleven’s direction. “Pretty good.”

Now she was minding it a little. She felt like jumping on this boy, straddling him, attacking him with her mouth, all of the above. He was so sweet, she didn’t deserve him but it lit a fire in her gut that was burning up her blood. She swallowed.

“Doesn’t the red look amazing on her?” Max cooed happily, draping an arm across her friend’s shoulder and grinning close to her face. Eleven could smell the sour tinge of alcohol on her breath.

“Yeah. Amazing,” Mike replied, apparently still unable to form full, coherent sentences.

“Hey Lucas, isn’t Max just stunning?” Eleven took her turn teasing and slipped her arms around Max’s slim waist possessively. The girls smirked enormously at each other, beginning to giggle again.

“Max is always stunning,” Lucas agreed appreciatively as he stared, his voice distant like he was in a trance, his mind elsewhere.

Eleven saw a flicker of hunger make an appearance in Max’s bright blue eyes and her grip around the redhead’s waist tightened. She didn’t want to be left alone with Mike on this particular night and briefly she feared that Max would abandon her to indulge in the lustful look Lucas was throwing her.

“Anyway,” Eleven began, her voice louder than necessary as if to disturb the tension brewing between the two. “What are we here for again?”

“Oh right,” Max hummed, her focus returning to the reality of the situation at hand and she eyed Eleven slyly. “We need to find some guys to recruit. Do you remember everything I taught you?”

“Give them Bambi eyes, don’t be afraid to touch and kiss with tongue,” Eleven replied stoically and Max nodded satisfactorily.

“What?!”

They looked over and Mike was gaping at them, his eyes dark with something Eleven hadn’t seen before. Lucas also seemed disturbed but not quite as animatedly as Mike was. He quickly recovered and shook his head, his expression now calmer as he tried to act casual.

“I mean, um,” he mumbled, a hand coming up to run through his curls anxiously. “You guys are going to be like kissing these guys? I thought you would just be, uh, dancing with them.”

“Oh no, we won’t be kissing them,” Max assured Mike, faking a gag to emphasize her point. “The tongue thing is more just like general advice.”

“Right. Okay. Cool,” Mike replied, his posture visibly relaxing. Lucas was staring at him dubiously. “Not that I, you know, _care_ or anything.”

“Sure, Mike,” Max replied sarcastically, winking at him knowingly. He tried to ignore that as his cheeks flared up. “We need like a signal to have though, in case some guy is a creep and we need help.”

“Good idea,” Eleven piped up, eager for a change in topic. “Maybe we should scratch our noses.”

“But what if it’s actually going well and my nose is just itchy?” Max disagreed, scrunching her face up. “My nose is itchy just from talking about it.”

“Okay, let’s tug on our ears,” Eleven suggested instead.

“That’s too subtle, we wouldn’t see it all the way over here,” Lucas spoke up. “We should have a code word.”

“I think it should be ‘capitalism,’” Max offered, pleased with herself.

“No, it has to be something you wouldn’t say in casual conversation,” Mike said.

“Why would anyone say ‘capitalism’ in casual conversation, Michael?”

“Just in case, let’s say, ‘I love capitalism,’” Eleven said. “Because that’s something none of us would ever say in conversation.”

“Genius,” Max commented gleefully. “Plus, no one will beat us up for saying that.”

“Even better!” Eleven cried delightedly and the guys watched as the girls proceeded to high-five, amused grins on their faces.

“Okay, let’s go,” Max said, waving at the boys as they took off into the colourful lights and throng of gyrating people. The boys looked at each other and simultaneously sighed.

The girls descended upon the dancefloor, moving to the beat alongside each other as they waited for interested men to approach them, so they could interrogate them and find out if they could be of value to the Party.

Soon enough, a man approached Eleven, enticed by the rhythmic motions of her body, and dominantly placed his hands on her hips. They danced together for a little while, Eleven avoiding any intimate contact as she patiently waited for a moment to investigate his political stance. She began by mentioning that she couldn’t go out very often because with her job she was unable to afford it. His response was lacking sympathy as he apathetically suggested she get a better job. She decided he was a no-go.

Eleven made very meaningful eye contact with Max at that point, who was across the room, flirting with another guy. She swiftly understood and advanced upon them, pulling Eleven away from the man with an explanation that they needed to go to the bathroom. It was a weak excuse, but Eleven didn’t care.

They did make a trip to the bathroom, and then recuperated before trying again to lure socially conscious men towards them, as neither of the boys they had solicited seemed interested in that topic.

Unexpectedly, they got a little caught up in dancing together, having too much fun to notice the guys hovering nearby, waiting for an opportune moment to make a move. Eleven was too happy and probably too drunk to care about the real reason they had come. The music was loud and good and Max was her favourite person and this was the first time in a long time that they could be carefree and content and she wanted to take advantage of it all, and really enjoy this night they had to themselves.

“I think I’m going to go visit with Lucas,” Max announced suddenly, the slight slur to her words noticeable.

“Max, that’s not the reason we’re here, remember?” Eleven complained, not wanting to be alone on the dancefloor or have to be alone with Mike. It was a lose-lose situation.

“The night is still young.”

“I’m not dancing by myself.”

“Alright, then take a break,” Max suggested, rolling her eyes and shrugging. She reached out and wrapped her fingers around Eleven’s wrist, turning around and tugging them off and away from the dancefloor and towards the table the boys had settled at, nursing beers as they conversed.

“Max, I don’t want to have to deal with Mike tonight,” Eleven whined as a last-ditch effort to avoid the inevitable.

“Oh, it’ll be fine, don’t worry. I’ll be quick with Lucas,” Max assured her, exaggeratedly winking at her. Eleven cringed, preferring not to understand what warranted her suggestiveness.

They reached the table the guys had chosen and Max immediately sat down flush against Lucas, practically sitting on him. Eleven hesitantly took the only empty space right beside Mike.

“Having fun?” Lucas asked, his attention solely on the redhead that was nearly straddling him.

“Yeah.” Max nodded eagerly and then her eyes focused on the drink in his hand, an amber liquid in a mason jar, its chill condensing on the glass with glistening droplets. “What are you drinking?”

“Oh, it’s just beer,” he answered and then pushed the jar towards her. “Want a sip?”

“I don’t think you need anymore alcohol, Max,” Eleven warily advised, not wanting this night to take a turn down vomit road.

“Shush, it’s only beer,” Max insisted, gracefully picking the drink up and taking a swig, grimacing at the taste.

“Did you want a drink or anything?” Mike suddenly piped up beside her and she almost startled, having ignored him heavily enough to forget he was there. She looked at him and could only see that softness in his eyes, his generosity making an appearance.

“No thanks, I don’t want to overdo it,” Eleven declined politely, giving him a smile. He nodded, his gaze lingering on her a second too long before it relocated to the drink in his hand which he promptly brought to his lips.

She watched quietly as he gulped the beer down, admiring the angles of his jaw, the freckles that spotted his skin, his plush, pink lips. He was so beautiful and she doubted he even knew it. She wanted to show him just how attractive he was, how attracted she was to him. She wanted to pepper his face with kisses, run her mouth down the channel of his throat, fist his curly hair in her hand and-

“Um, Eleven?”

She froze. Amidst her internal monologue she had actually reached her fingers up and tangled them in Mike’s dark tresses. What was wrong with her?

She snatched her hand back and buried it in her lap, restraining it with her other hand as if it might attempt something on its own accord.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, embarrassed. “It’s just. Soft.”

“Oh,” Mike breathed, eyeing her curiously. He didn’t look bothered, in fact, he almost looked pleased with a hint of confusion seeping into his expression. “Thanks.”

“Well, that was odd,” Max commented and Eleven wanted to die a little bit. Then her friend grinned wickedly, casting a devious look in Lucas’ direction. “We should go dance.”

Lucas readily agreed, and they disappeared into the horde. Eleven wanted to sink into the floor in an effort to escape the awkwardness that bubbled up when she and Mike were left alone.

“Maybe we should dance,” the boy unexpectedly proposed, and she looked at him inquiringly, causing his surprising confidence to putter out, his demeanor shrinking and shying under her gaze. “I mean, we could. If you wanted to.”

Eleven mulled it over, wondering what it was she was afraid of. It would only be a dance, after all, nothing big could come out of that. It wasn’t a confession of her undying love for him or something, it didn’t even need to mean anything at all. It would just be fun. And that’s what this night was intended for.

“Alright,” she finally conceded, and Mike’s face lit up in both disbelief and enthusiasm, causing her heart to warm. “Just don’t step on my toes.”

Mike slid out of his seat, extending a hand towards Eleven to help her up. She took it and gracefully followed his lead as they turned to move towards the dancefloor, their hands still clasped together.

The song playing had a strong and prevalent beat to it that made it easy to dance to, but simple guitar strumming overlapped it, and the singer’s voice was laidback and gritty, giving it a mixture of relaxed and melodic ambience. It was a really good song, Eleven decided.

The couple found a space for them on the floor and finally they let go of each other’s hands as Eleven started to catch the beat and reflected it in her movements, Mike trying to do the same, but his eyes distracted by the captivating rolling of his dancing partner’s hips.

Eleven noticed his awkward motions and snickered a bit which he blushed and rolled her eyes at, but then she started copying him. She let go of the judgements of whoever might be watching her and replicated his goofy, arrhythmic dancing. This naturally progressed into somewhat of a competition as to who could dance the worst, and they could not stop laughing at each other.

Eleven loved his laugh, somehow throaty and giggly at the same time, the toothy grin on his face and the crinkling of his eyes in his amusement. He was cute and she couldn’t get enough of it.

“You’re the worst dancer,” she complained, her cheeks red from laughing and the heat of the room and the alcohol and her feet a little tired from hopping around.

“Hey, I’m trying, okay?” Mike protested, the smile never leaving his face.

He reached out to grab one of her hands and lifted their joined arms above her head so she could twirl around, her face light and joyous and all Mike could think was, _wow. Beautiful._

When she finished spinning, he took her other hand and let his admiration consume him, his confidence building enough to pull her close to him and place her hands on his shoulders, then moved his fingers to her waist. Uncertainty flickered in her eyes at their intimacy, their chests close to touching, but her grin didn’t waver.

They couldn’t keep up with the beat in their position, instead choosing to gently sway together. It looked odd, slow-dancing in a club where the bass was rapid and pulsating, but they forgot to care.

“You’re a really good dancer,” Mike complimented her softly, his eyes bursting with genuineness and poorly hidden attraction.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, then smirked. “I don’t think you’re a lost cause.”

“Oh really? You think I have some potential?” Mike asked, jokingly shimmying his shoulders, rising a laugh out of Eleven.

“Not if you do that,” she disagreed. “But practice makes perfect.”

“Will you help me, a poor rhythmically-challenged man, practice then?” Mike proposed, hopefulness perking up in his eyes, his hands slightly squeezing her hips.

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” she responded innocently, locking her fingers snugly around his neck and gazing up at him.

It might have been his imagination, but her eyes looked suggestive and her lips looked pouty and he thought maybe she was sending a signal, but he really didn’t want to take a chance and mess anything up.

They continued to slowly move together, failing to notice the songs changing. They stared at each other how they had been for weeks now, searching for something meaningful, a clue or a sign that their feelings were reciprocated. They were clueless that all the signals were there. Finally, Eleven saw Mike take a breath.

“Eleven, I wanted to tell you-,” he began before a foreign hand found her side and tugged her away, effectively separating them.

“Hey buddy, I think your turn’s up.”

It was a guy with wavy brown hair and a grumpy face, his eyes dark and determined and his mouth set in a sleazy smirk. Eleven froze, unsure how to respond. She glanced back and forth between the two men, noticing the annoyance radiating from Mike as he glared at the spot where the man’s hand still rested on her side. She forced herself to remember that this was the reason they were there and she couldn’t conscientiously waste Steve’s money on a night that she selfishly spent fawning over Mike. Eleven needed to be at least sort of productive.

“Mike,” she said, pulling him out of his laser like focus, his countenance softening as it landed on her instead. She grimaced apologetically. “Could you go get me some water, please?’

His posture sagged in disappointment, but he nodded and noiselessly turned away and walked towards the bar. Eleven watched after him longingly.

“Great job getting rid of him,” her new caller commented, and she turned to face him, forcing a smile. He slithered his arms around her back and pulled her close to him and she placed her hands on his chest to keep some distance between them. Eleven seriously doubted he was interested in politics.

“I’m Troy,” he introduced himself, smiling cockily.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Ele-“

“I like the way you move,” he interrupted her, his hands moving to his hips and harshly squeezing them. Repulsion began to boil up in her.

*

“Um, thanks, I-“

“You seem like a good time,” he commented, and she felt disgusted at the way he was looking down on her, like she was a piece of meat. It didn’t help that his gross, beery breath was washing over her. She hated guys like this and she instantly knew she needed to get away from him. She quickly scoped out the people around them, hoping Max might be conveniently nearby.

“I might need to take you home with me.”

Eleven felt his hands travel to her ass and take a handful of it, and she gasped and swiftly pushed him away from her, feeling a strange combination of embarrassment and repugnance.

“No thanks,” she bit out angrily, and went to move away, to get far away from him. He caught hold of her wrist and pulled her flush against him. She tried to wrestle her hand from his grip, but he wasn’t letting up.

“Hey, loosen up,” he instructed her, apparently oblivious to how revolted he made her feel, smiling in a way that looked more like a sneer. She felt briefly like she couldn’t breathe.

*

“Leave me alone,” she demanded, trying to step away from him but failing when he snaked his arms around her again.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fun,” he insisted, bringing a hand to her face and stroking her cheek as she attempted unsuccessfully to avoid his touch.

Before she could respond, either vocally or physically, he was suddenly torn away from her body and she stumbled back from the force of it. The absence of his limbs all over her was such a relief she barely registered what was happening. The first thing she processed was Troy rolling over on the floor to sit up, looking incredibly angry. The next thing she saw was Mike, hovering threateningly over him.

“She said ‘no,’ asshole,” Mike sneered, his jaw set, and his fists clenched at his side.

The crowd had stepped back to get out of the way, creating a little circle around the two men and Eleven watched in shock as she realized that Mike had come to her rescue and shoved the creep away from her, strongly enough that he fell to the floor. Max and Lucas appeared at the edge of the circle, having pushed their way to the front, looking at Mike with confusion and then at Eleven, hoping for some answers.

Eleven then stared in horror as Troy leapt to his feet and charged at Mike who wasn’t fast enough to respond before he was tackled to the ground. Troy managed to land a brutal punch to Mike’s cheek causing his head to snap to the side, his face crumpled in pain, before Eleven’s brain recognized what was happening and instinctively reacted.

Troy suddenly flew from his position on top of Mike and landed a few feet away, sliding until he hit the wall. His head smacked against the drywall and he promptly slumped onto his side, clearly knocked out.

The crowd gasped, the music having stopped as the live band reacted to the scene before them. A mass of people rushed over to Troy to see how bad the damage was, their voices blending together in high, shrieking tones but Eleven knew they were trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

Max hurried in Eleven’s direction, tugging on her arm and asserting that they needed to go as she numbly watched someone examining Troy’s head for a wound. Then she looked over to see Lucas helping Mike off the ground, his lip dripping blood but his expression frozen in shock.

They all exchanged looks for a moment and then simultaneously bolted towards the door, Max barely even remembering to get their coats. They got outside just as the bouncers were rushing past them, apparently alerted to the fight, and thankfully neither of them noticed Mike’s bloody lip. They calmly walked away from the club, not wanting to bring attention to themselves, but continuously looking over their shoulders in case anyone came running after them, prepared to sprint away if it was needed.

After a few minutes, they turned a corner and stopped in the middle of an alleyway, their minds too occupied to be concerned by the dangerous darkness of their surroundings.

Eleven could feel their eyes on her and she didn’t know if they were confused, furious, afraid or all three things at once. It was the first time they had seen her truly injure a person using her powers. The little prank she had pulled on the police officer was nothing compared to the damage she had just inflicted on Troy and it was all out of impulse, something she had barely needed to think about. She didn’t even know how to react to herself, and there was no explanation she could give them besides needing to protect Mike.

“Fuck,” was all she could manage to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is a little bit of a fluff overload so everyone who likes the sweet stuff should get excited lol
> 
> as always, leave a kudos if u liked it and let me know what u think :)


	9. there is a potion in your lips (so sweet, i'd die)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is from 'overwhelming' by jon bellion.
> 
> so i originally never planned to write this chapter, i was just going to skip from last chapter to the next but then i realized i might need a little more filler and then the story kind of took control and i ended up being less like the writer and more like the vessel for it lol.
> 
> anyone with a sweet tooth should enjoy this one, at least i hope they do. 
> 
> thanks for reading :)

“This is fucking ridiculous.”

Eleven flinched in her seat, embarrassed at Steve’s snide tone.

An emergency meeting had been called consisting of her, Max, Lucas, and Mike the morning after their outing as it was impossible for Steve to miss the bruising and scabbing of Mike’s mouth when he showed up at the warehouse unexpectedly. They had arrived like dogs with their tails between their legs, their heads hanging in shame.

“How did you let this get so out of control?” Steve asked, directing the question towards Mike who had an icepack positioned securely against his face.

“It wasn’t his fault, it was mine,” Eleven spoke up, refusing to let Mike, the one person who had been hurt during their excursion, take all the blame. Or any of it, whatsoever.

“I don’t care whose fault it was,” Steve snapped, his features crumpled in exasperation and his voice growing louder and louder with each word. “All I know is a couple hundred dollars just went down the drain. A couple hundred dollars so you guys could get drunk and fuck off and get in a fight and reveal your telekinetic fucking powers to a bar full of people!”

Eleven’s face was hot with shame as she watched him pace in frustration.

“We’ll pay you back, Steve. I promise,” Max offered bravely although she was unable to pick her gaze up off the floor. Steve responded with a dismissive wave but Eleven knew that probably made him feel at least a touch better.

“The one thing we don’t want to do right now is draw attention to ourselves. That is the one and only thing. And what did you guys do last night?” Steve continued. When no one answered, he repeated his question a few decibels louder, causing everyone to jerk in their seats.

“We drew attention to ourselves,” they all recited simultaneously.

“Right.” Steve nodded and took a deep breath. “So now I have to prohibit you all from any public outings.”

The group sighed but they easily accepted the punishment. It wasn’t as if many people were able to afford more than one outing a month anyway. Eleven didn’t particularly enjoy the sentencing though, as being governed and told what to do was something that really got under her skin. She didn’t like losing her sense of control over herself and her life. But Steve was being fair in his judgement, she supposed.

“Did we at least learn a lesson?” Steve posed the rhetorical question to them all, watching them with raised, unamused eyebrows.

“Yeah. That we shouldn’t be prostituting out the girls to get recruits,” Mike muttered bitterly, his voice a little unclear due to his mouth being half smushed by the icepack.

“That was not the issue here, Mike,” Steve rebuked irritably.

Mike scoffed and removed the icepack from his face, a look of annoyed defiance on his face that surprised Eleven.

“If that creep wasn’t all over Eleven, this wouldn’t have happened,” Mike cried, motioning with a hand in the aforementioned girl’s direction.

“If you weren’t jealous and possessive, this wouldn’t have happened,” Max countered, crossing her arms. Lucas nodded a little in agreement next to her and Eleven gaped at the insinuation, unable to speak up.

“I am _not_ jealous and possessive,” Mike argued, frowning at the accusation.

“Are you kidding?” the redhead mocked, quirking an eyebrow at him. “You were practically frothing at the mouth.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“I’m not blind, Michael.”

“Okay, simmer down, children,” Steve declared, his hands out to end the quarrelling, then he looked between the four of them curiously. “Is there something going on here that I need to be made aware of?”

“No,” they all rushed to deny, refusing to look at each other.

“Right,” he drawled disbelievingly. Then he sighed, his shoulders deflating. “Fine then. You have your punishments. Now get out of my sight until our next meeting.”

Steve took off out the door and the four stood from their seats in silence. Max turned to wait for Eleven so they could walk together, but Eleven discretely tilted her head towards Mike, letting her know that she wanted to stay and talk to him. Max smirked and winked exaggeratedly before leaving with Lucas, their arms interlocked.

“How are you feeling?” Eleven asked as she approached Mike, eyeing his injury as he had dropped the icepack onto his chair.

“Sore,” he replied simply, then grinned. “But it would have been worse if my knight in shining armor hadn’t come to rescue me.”

“You shouldn’t have pushed that guy,” Eleven sighed, too somber to joke about it yet.

Mike gawked at her.

“He literally groped you, El,” he argued, disgust entirely encompassing his face. “What kind of guy would I have been if I didn’t do anything?”

“I was handling it.”

“Not very well from what I saw.”

“Okay, fine, you’re right,” Eleven conceded quickly, unable to be upset with him. What he had done was what she would expect any decent human being to do, but it still warmed her heart that he had stood up for her like that.

“You really jumped the gun on the telekinetic thing, though,” Mike replied, his tone softening and becoming light and playful, his eyes getting their twinkle back. “I didn’t even get to defend your honor.”

“And let that guy ruin that pretty face of yours? I don’t think so.”

“You think my face is pretty?” Mike smirked teasingly at her.

“That wasn’t the point,” Eleven frowned, fighting down the blush that crept up her neck at her accidental, unfiltered compliment.

“Can I make it the point?”

“I think you already did.”

They stopped and stared at each other, a smile pulling at Eleven’s lips as she thoroughly enjoyed their banter, an examinative, fond look on Mike’s face as he gazed down at her.

“I think we should talk,” he suddenly announced, his expression cautious, and Eleven paled.

That was never a good start to a conversation.

“We are talking,” she attempted to joke, fearing any transition to seriousness.

Eleven didn’t know what Mike had in mind but she was afraid that he was about to reject her without her even coming on to him yet. Unless he counted her kissing him as coming on to him which she had to admit any other rational person would count that. But that was almost two weeks ago and Eleven figured they had missed the ideal time frame to discuss it. Had she said or done something last night to prompt this that she couldn’t remember? Had she hit on him, kissed him again?

She blinked and saw Mike was staring at her, his eyebrows crinkled, and she realized he had said something but she hadn’t heard it from being too deep in thought.

“Sorry, what?” she recovered, clearing her throat.

“I said that, um, I haven’t been entirely honest with you,” he repeated himself, his eyes avoiding hers.

 _Shit._ Did he have a girlfriend? Had she kissed him and flirted with him and danced with him and all the while he was in a committed relationship? Had she made a complete fool out of herself?

“Or, it’s not that I haven’t been honest,” Mike continued quickly, apparently noticing the panic that flooded Eleven’s face. “I’ve just been avoiding it, I guess.”

“Avoiding what?” she asked, searching his features, his body language for a clue as to what was going on.

One of his hands had gone to his head, pulling at his curls nervously, his eyes had gone shy and his face had gone scarlet, his voice trembling and his tongue stumbling over his words.

“Well, I’ve been, um, I’ve been wanting to, uh.” He gulped. “It’s just that I, you know, I need to, um…”

“Spit it out, Mike,” she encouraged gently, giving him a reassuring smile despite the heaviness of her gut and the aching anticipation of what he had to say.

“I really like you, El.”

The gears grinding in her head came to a screeching stop.

“Huh?” The sound sprang from her throat without her even processing it.

“Please don’t freak out, I just-“ he stopped and sighed, his shoulders sagging as he crumbled into himself. Her reaction was obviously not what he was looking for and his confidence quickly faltered. “Forget it.”

Mike turned to leave but Eleven reached out and grabbed his arm, making him stay.

“Wait, what?” She blinked up at him, her brain going miles a minute to try and keep up with this new information.

“Don’t make me repeat it, El,” he whined, his eyes soft and sad like a puppy dog’s. “It’s embarrassing enough.”

“It’s not,” Eleven insisted, almost laughing, her hands still wrapped around his forearm and she wondered if he could feel her heart pulsating through her fingertips.

“It is,” he maintained, rolling his eyes at himself. “Ever since you barged into my office as if you were about to kill me, I’ve liked you.”

“What?” she couldn’t help but laugh at that revelation.

“See? You’re laughing,” he complained and tried to shrug out of her hold.

“I’m not – I just, I’ve never met anyone who’s been attracted to me while I’ve been in a murderous trance,” she joked and saw Mike relax a little bit, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Well, I’m glad I’m your first,” he muttered and Eleven eyed him mischievously until he recognized the innuendo of his sentence. He slapped his free hand to his forehead and groaned. “I need to stop talking.”

A giggle erupted from her mouth and he finally pulled loose from her grip and swiftly moved towards the back hallway, hoping to escape that entire humiliating exchange.

“I’m going to go drown myself in the sink now,” he explained flatly. “Bye.”

“That sounds difficult,” Eleven jested and Mike’s only response was an unamused grunt.

Just as he reached the door to the office, she called out, channeling all the courage she had.

“Mike.”

He pivoted to look at her, his hand on the doorknob as he glared at her impatiently, waiting for her to continue. She bit her lip, fighting back her smile, willing the rumbling and rolling of nerves like waves in her stomach to settle.

“I really like you too.”

Mike blinked once, then twice, and then a delighted grin blossomed on his face. He barrelled towards her, leaning down and snaking his arms around her waist, his face in her hair. Eleven laughed happily at this, pleasantly surprised by the events that had transpired on this day, and tucked her face into his neck, breathing in. She hadn't expected Mike to confess these feelings for her, she had convinced herself until it was ingrained in her mind that it just wasn't a possibility. So when he had, when his words filled her with a new sensation of absolute giddiness, she couldn't resist revealing the truth to him.

He relaxed his hold on her, pulling back and intertwining their fingers, squeezing her hands lightly. He watched her with a combination of disbelief and enthrallment, his eyes bright with wonder as if he was looking at the world in a whole new light.

 _The feeling is mutual_ , she thought to herself, simultaneously horrified and thrilled about this new development.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked, her cheeks stiff from the immensity of her smile.

“I just, I didn’t think it was reciprocated.” Mike shrugged, a surge of sorrow taking over his expression.

“But, we – I kissed you,” Eleven reminded him, blushing slightly even though she knew there was no reason to be embarrassed. She knew now that it had been the right thing to do.

“I thought it was because you knew I liked you and you felt bad for me,” he admitted, grimacing at his misinterpretation. “And before that I heard Max teasing you and you sounded so annoyed that she even suggested that we might – that we were –“

“No,” she interrupted, shaking her head, “I always sound annoyed when I’m talking to Max. I just hated how brazen she was being about it.”

Mike nodded a little, his eyes downcast as he took in her explanation.

“And when I kissed you it was because-,” she paused, mulling over how to put her thoughts into words. She was not the sappy type, never the person to talk about feelings at length and really sum up her admiration for someone else in just one sentence or two. Maybe because that was a very rare occasion for her. “It was because at that moment I realized I wasn’t alone. Like, you were the only person in the world who might truly understand how I feel. And I had never felt closer to anyone than I did that day, and I wanted you to know that and I wanted you to feel the same way. Because I care about you. A lot.”

Mike was staring at her, his mouth slightly agape at this confession and Eleven began to regret opening her mouth and allowing such nonsense gurgle out. Had she even been coherent?

“I’m glad we were on the same page then,” he finally said, his voice soft as a slow smile stretched across his lips, his eyes taking her in like she was an oasis in the middle of a desert, the shelter of the eye of a hurricane. It made her insides squirm in the most amazing way.

“And for the record,” she mentioned, her confidence returning due to the admiration that swelled in Mike’s gaze. “I started liking you the second you told me you were homeless.”

They paused, Mike blinking at her expressionlessly before they both burst into laughter. Laughter at themselves, their naivety and their fears of being rejected and their attraction towards each other at the most inopportune moments.

Eleven hadn’t felt better in weeks.

When their snickers ceased, they exchanged a single look before simultaneously moving together, finally, _finally_ connecting their lips again. It was gentle, careful of the cut at the corner of Mike’s mouth, but it was sweet and supple despite that and so different from their first kiss, the distress and the desperation much less present this time around. Eleven reached up, coiling her fingers in his hair like she had the night before, and Mike’s hand cradled her jaw, his thumb smoothing over the apple of her cheek, gently, like she might break underneath his touch.

They pulled away and she licked her lips, the taste of him lingering there as she looked bashfully up at him, noticing how his eyes had glazed over, sucked into a daze like she had cast a spell over him. Eleven was starting to feel like maybe she had the same amount of effortless power over his emotions that he unknowingly had over hers.

“So-“

“I really like kissing you.”

Eleven giggled, her cheeks aflame as she couldn’t bring herself to mind his interruption of her, fascinated by the adorable grin that brightened up Mike’s face as he enjoyed the sound of her laugh.

“I like kissing you too,” she responded, unbothered, but then she chewed at her bottom lip. “But..”

Mike’s countenance dropped at the sound of that word, his entire face frowning, and she quickly moved closer to him, entangling their hands again for reassurance. Eleven had days, weeks even, to imagine exactly how she wanted to handle this situation if it ever occurred. Mostly because she sort of, kind of, really liked to fantasize about it. And it was a little surreal to her now that it was all coming true.

“But I need you to know that I also care a lot about the Party and our missions and everything we’ve set out to do,” she explained, watching him carefully for any signs of upset before she continued. “And I don’t know if now is the right time to be exploring a relationship.”

“What are you saying?” he asked slowly, his face still tense with worry, and she brought a hand up to try and caress out the wrinkles of his concern.

“I want to be with you,” she promised and she saw him relax a little, finally exhaling after holding his breath. “I want to kiss you and hold hands and whatever else. But for now, I think we should take it easy. And just have fun with it. Nothing too serious.”

“Okay,” he nodded, understanding finally cascading over him, and he looked at her sympathetically. “I get it. You don’t want to get too attached when anything could happen.”

Eleven grinned, amazed and thrilled that Mike somehow knew her as well as he did already. That he would listen to her and recognize what he had to say and respect her wishes. She was feeling incredibly blessed by him being in her life at that moment.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her for a quick and passionate kiss full of appreciation. Eleven was already able to tell that kissing him was a budding addiction.

“Exactly,” she confirmed when she released her hold on him.

Since neither of them had things to do that day, Mike suggested that they have that practice session he had proposed almost a week ago. So they did. Mike had her sit in the wide open part of the warehouse and try to light the candle where it was in the office as he watched for the flame.

It was the same as their other practicing sessions, but different. The lighthearted comments and the charged looks remained, but the unnamed and lingering tension had dissipated. They flirted and teased openly, no longer dancing carefully around each other. They paused often to exchange tentative, curious kisses.

A few hours passed, the day dwindling into dusk, and Eleven had almost mastered controlling things with her mind from a distance as the sun dropped into the pool of the horizon and splashed vibrant pinks and oranges across the sky. It probably only took so long due to the constant distraction of Mike’s presence, truthfully.

She was exhausted, her upper lip stained red from her nose bleeding and a dull ache swelling at the back of her head. But she was procrastinating going home and leaving the comfortable, addictive energy that thrummed between her and Mike.

He offered to walk her home and she accepted, their steps synchronized as they spoke quietly. In a lull of conversation, Mike reached out and interlocked their hands, smiling bashfully down at Eleven, and the grey of the world around them fell away.

They reached Eleven’s apartment door as the sun left its final kiss of light to the sky, the cold dark of the night descending upon them, but when Mike leaned down to kiss her goodnight, she felt nothing but warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cute. the next chapter is also immensely fluffy and to be brutally honest that's mostly in an effort to raise the stakes here lol because right afterwards shit basically hits the fan and then angst takes over for a good while. i think i enjoy writing angst more than fluff because i love torturing myself and other people lmao so enjoy this while it lasts!
> 
> as always, leave a kudos if you liked it, and let me know what you think. see you next week :)


	10. bitter with hunger (pulse locked with mine)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title is from 'pressure' by milk & bone.
> 
> first of all, THANKS SO MUCH FOR 100 KUDOS!!! like wow, you guys have no idea how much that means to me.
> 
> second of all, this is chapter is late and the next chapter for my other story is VERY VERY late and i want to apologize for that. life comes up sometimes though, and in this case i've been sick with a pretty bad stomach bug for over two weeks now and i honestly just didn't feel good enough to write most of the time. that means i haven't done a full, final edit of this chapter in my effort to get this uploaded so grammar may be off and i might tweak some things in the next couple of days. also, the next chapter for this story will probably also be late :/
> 
> third of all, i really want to specifically thank 3 people who have stuck with this story and supported it since the beginning and consistently leave comments to let me know what they think. i really want them to know that i look forward to their feedback after every chapter and although i don't reply every time, i appreciate them so much for helping inspire and motivate me to continue with this fic. those people are TooFondofStars, VERONICAmars, and Celestial55. thank you guys so much, big big love! xx
> 
> anyway, thanks for reading and enjoy the fluff :)

A couple weeks passed, and things were good. Eleven felt like a heaviness that had been weighing on her chest since she met Mike had been lifted. Somehow being distracted by the limbo they had danced around for weeks was much worse than being distracted by Mike’s shy smiles and lingering hands on the small of her back and featherlight kisses to her forehead.

Max had gushed endlessly about her excitement over Eleven having a sort-of-but-not-boyfriend. She insisted it would help her simultaneously loosen up and settle down and somehow, she was right. Waking up and thinking of Mike and knowing he was thinking of her was such a bubbly start to her day, and going to sleep and dreaming of his dazzling eyes and how they made her heart twitch in her chest was a perfect end to the night.

Things were good.

Then, she woke up on Christmas morning with the sands of quality sleep in her eyes and things got even better.

It was the one day of the year that it was guaranteed that Eleven didn’t have to work. She could sleep without worrying that her boss might send a messenger to inform her that they were short on staff and she had to come in to work even though she hadn’t had a day off in two weeks. She could wake up and make an actual breakfast instead of grabbing a measly granola bar on her way out the door. She could hang out on the couch, reading a book in her pajamas for as long as her heart desired.

This Christmas, however, she had an errand to run.

Eleven didn’t usually buy presents during the holidays. She didn’t have many people to give gifts to besides Max anyway, but she wouldn’t be able to afford it in the first place. Many families were in comparable situations and typically devoted the day to similar sentiments like savoring the time to rest and enjoying the company of their loved ones.

This year though, Eleven had someone new in her life that she wanted to show her appreciation for. And while browsing a small junk shop a couple of days ago she had discovered something that she was pretty sure he would absolutely love.

So she slept until that last sting of fatigue had left her and enjoyed a hearty brunch and gave herself some time to relax in a way she didn’t often get to embrace. And then in the late afternoon, when the blue of the sky was beginning to darken, she was stepping outside on the one day of the year that the whole city seemed to be in hibernation.

The snow had fallen thickly over the last couple of weeks, streaking the grey concrete of the roads and buildings with white. Due to the lack of vehicles prowling the streets, the snow hadn’t been tainted by the smudgy brown of slush and dirt and was still powdery with fresh flecks. The lack of people was surreal, and Eleven felt both isolated and intrigued, her mind recalling the winter wonderland of a book she had really enjoyed about a lion and a witch and a wardrobe.

She reached the warehouse after trudging through the tundra for a few minutes and quickly slipped through the doors, searching for some heat to warm up her hands and feet. It was toasty inside and the air somehow smelled pleasantly of cinnamon. Eleven took off her boots and slipped along the smooth cement floor towards the office where the door was wide open and the light from inside formed a yellow patch on the wall.

Mike had explained to her, in hollowed tones, that shortly after the death of his grandfather, the rest of the family crumbled. They unraveled, as the old man seemed to be the last thread stitching them together. His parents invested themselves entirely in work, and in Mike’s opinion, brushed his grandfather’s death aside. They were not motivated to challenge the status quo, to remember the man’s rebellious, unapologetic actions that had led to him standing fearlessly before a firing squad. They didn’t want to carry on his legacy. Mike, however, did. So he left once he turned eighteen and never looked back.

And so he also spent his Christmases alone.

Peering inside the office, Eleven found Mike in his usual position; his foot tapping the floor distractedly as he sat in his chair at his desk, his hand moving rapidly across a piece of paper with a pencil. He was focused enough that he didn’t notice her presence until she was looping her arms across his collarbones, resting her chin on his shoulder and briefly pressing her lips to his cheek.

He startled but settled when he spied her sneaky smirk out of the corner of his eye.

“Hey,” he greeted softly, seeming a little surprised to see her there.

“Merry Christmas,” she replied, her smile radiant.

“Merry Christmas.”

He swiveled his chair and promptly pulled her into his lap, capturing her mouth with his own. They grinned against each other’s lips, not having tired of the thrill of kissing each other quite yet. Eleven’s fingers twisting through his hair against his scalp had become familiar, alongside Mike’s thumb’s caress over Eleven’s jawline.

“What are you doing?” she asked when they parted, her hand still twirling his dark curls around and around, lost in the carousel.

“Working on the next campaign,” Mike replied, his eyes locked on her face. She was starting to get used to the way those dark eyes managed to reach into her gut and tickle her from the inside out.

“Ooh, what’s it about?” She raised her eyebrows, twisting in her position on his lap to peek at the pile of papers on the desk.

Mike had let her read some of his writing for a different crusade a week earlier and she had been amazed at his talent, how it sucked her into a fantasy world of elves and dragons and horrifying monsters. She had told him how breathtaking his writing was, and he had promptly communicated his thanks in a less than verbal way.

“Promise you won’t tell the boys?” He squinted at her.

“I would never dare,” she assured him. When he kept staring at her skeptically, she pinched her fingers at the corner of her mouth and slid them across her lips. “My lips are sealed.”

“Well, in this one the big antagonist is the Mind Flayer.”

“Is ‘flayer’ actually a word?”

“Not important. What is important is that he stuns his victims with his psionic powers and then sucks out their brains. Or he turns them into his slaves.”

“Adorable.”

“How – that’s not adorable, it’s terrifying.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Right. What are you doing here anyway? It’s Christmas.”

“I don’t exactly have much going on,” Eleven laughed, referencing her entire lack of family members. “And I wanted to give you something.”

Before Mike could respond, she stood from his lap and went to the sitting area where she had left her gift on a chair. It was big and blocky so it was impossible to wrap, so Eleven had settled for tying a big red ribbon around it with a little bow on top.

She held it carefully in her arms and stood in the doorway, biting her lip anxiously as she awaited Mike’s reaction.

“No way,” he breathed out, his eyebrows high as his face filled with awe.

It was a typewriter. Its base was a greying black, its keys finished with gold, the silver underneath glinting in the light where the paint had chipped and cracked. They hadn’t really been banned according to Bill #667 but by that time, computers had diminished the need for them, resulting in a fading out of the production of the machines. Consequently, they were difficult to track down now. Eleven couldn’t believe her luck when she had discovered one hiding in the very back of a junk shop under a pile of old books.

“You like it?” she asked, still unsure as she walked over and set it down on the desk, wringing her hands.

“Are you kidding?” Mike was ecstatic, a huge smile slowly spreading across his face. “How did you find it? It must have cost a fortune.”

“Not really.” Eleven shrugged, his joy was contagious, making her stomach buzz happily. “Benny gave us a little bit of a Christmas bonus for once. I had some extra cash.”

“El, this is amazing,” Mike continued, his hands tugging to remove the bow, his fingertips dusting over the keys with the concentrated fascination of child.

Pride swelled in the hollow of her chest, a giddy grin blooming on her face. She finally understood the incentive behind giving gifts; the power to fill people with pleasant surprise from something as simple as a thought, as wrapping up appreciation in a small bundle of tangibility.

“I have something for you too,” Mike announced, turning away from the typewriter and giving her a soft smile.

Eleven frowned, her eyebrows puckering as she watched Mike stand up and move over to the corner of the room, crouching and digging through a tote bag. Her mind flashed through all the memories of past Christmases it could dig up and suddenly she realized she had never once received a gift before. Not from any of her foster parents or social workers or peers at school. The whole idea was feeling a little foreign.

Mike stood up and walked back over to her then, a small anxious grin on his face as he revealed the two small items he cradled in his hands.

They were compact, black rectangles with dozens of little buttons, a small knob and a long stick extending from the top. A single image flashed into Eleven’s mind, one that appeared in the technology section of her history textbook in primary school. They were walkie-talkies.

“How did you get these?” she asked excitedly, her eyebrows shooting up as she reached out and took one into her hands, turning it over and running her fingers over the bumpy keyboard.

“I made them.” Mike shrugged. “I’ve been getting parts for both the transmitter and these. I wanted you to get one of the first couple.”

“Wow,” Eleven breathed, eyes still adhered to the device.

“Look.”

He reached over and pressed a small button on the side of her handheld, causing a little screen to light up with blocky numbers on it. Then he did the same on the one in his own hand, his thumb pressing down on a different, larger button and raising the device to his lips. He spoke into it and his voice suddenly erupted from the speaker on Eleven’s radio.

“We can talk to each other whenever we want now.”

The idea was admittingly thrilling to Eleven. Communicating with people from a distance, even a short one, meant either paying one of the messengers that loitered on street corners or walking over oneself, even if the message was as little as saying ‘okay.’

The prospect of being able to simply reach over to Eleven’s nightstand and have Mike’s voice at her side whenever she wanted was astonishing. Feeling isolated and alone without wanting to would be an issue of the past. The comfort of having a familiar voice in her ear whenever she desired was at her fingertips. It was another thing she could control.

 Eleven hesitantly pressed the big button on her walkie talkie and spoke into it, hearing it echo in Mike’s hands a few feet away from her. She laughed and stepped closer to him and suddenly a loud screech sprang from the radio, causing her to startle and drop it on the ground.

“What was that?” she asked, surprised and confused.

“It’s called ‘feedback,’” Mike explained easily, smiling patiently at her and leaning over to pick up the offending item from the floor. “It happens when a receiver and transmitter are activated and too close to each other.”

“Right,” Eleven muttered, still a little lost.

Despite children being taught about types of technology that existed before the banning, they were obviously never briefed on how technology truly functioned. It was witchcraft to the commoners.

“This is really cool,” Eleven gushed, her bewilderment overcast by her appreciation for the gift. “Thanks so much, Mike.”

 “You’re welcome,” he replied, his face soft and shy and staring at her with that potent admiration.

She moved towards him again, reaching up to lock him into a kiss, enjoying the taste of him on her tongue as his nose brushed slightly against hers. He had been sweet, sweet fire from the beginning. Where she was cold and sour and bitter, he had thawed her with his blinding smile, his warmth. Together they were light and calm as air.

“It’s getting dark,” Mike commented moments later. “Want me to walk you home?”

Eleven nodded, tucking her new toy deep into her purse, hidden beneath a scarf, and slipping her hand into Mike’s curled fingers. They sauntered silently along the sparkling snow, the night less shadowed due to the light of the moon bouncing back off the white of the earth. Her feet were cold, toes shivering in her boots, but her fingers were warm and snug in Mike’s grasp.

When they arrived at Eleven’s doorstep, she turned to him, thanking him again for his present. He leaned down and pressed his lips delicately to her cheek. When he went to leave, she stopped him, pulling at his sleeve. Mike looked at her, calm and ready. She took a breath in.

“Maybe you should stay.”

He blinked at her. She swallowed, willing herself to continue despite the rattling of nerves in her belly.

“I don’t want you to be alone on Christmas.”

Mike grinned and she saw in the shine of his eyes that he saw through her excuse. She meant it, she didn’t like the idea of Mike feeling lonely, but she also just wanted him close.

“Okay.”

They went inside, Eleven disengaging the lock and bolt and latch on the inside of the door with her mind and then leading him in and refastening all the locks without sparing a glance behind her. She was in the middle of shedding her jacket when she noticed the giddy grin on his face, the same one that appeared whenever she used her powers, and rolled her eyes playfully at him.

“I don’t have to carry around my keys this way.” Eleven shrugged, unsure why she felt she needed to explain herself.

Mike nodded, the grin still there, his gaze laden with something she couldn’t quite decipher. He copied her, unzipping his coat and hanging it up on one of the hooks by her door.

“I’ll give you the grand tour,” Eleven suggested, clapping her hands together. She pointed grandiosely to the fridge in the corner. “That’s the kitchen.” Then to the small sofa with the hole in one of its armrests along the wall. “There’s the living room.” She pointed to her bed which occupied the other corner. “Here’s the bedroom.” And finally, she gestured to the closed door next to the sofa across from where they stood. “And the bathroom.”

“Wow,” Mike responded, elongating the word and whistling lowly, exaggerating his admiration. Eleven laughed, unashamed. “I mean, it’s better than my place.”

“That’s true,” she agreed, thinking of his sleeping bag and suddenly feeling bad for not having him over sooner.

Eleven walked over to her nightstand, a little worn down wooden thing that somehow managed to hold up her alarm clock as well as a little drawer of books. She carefully placed her new walkie talkie on the surface, gazing at it fondly.

“How do you like to spend your time here anyway?” Mike asked, looking around and noting the bleakness of it.

Eleven pulled open the drawer in the nightstand and gestured to the books inside, smiling shyly. Mike walked over and peered inside, then lifted one of the books out, his fingers dragging over the cover of it.

“Animal Farm,” he read the title, peering at Eleven with devious eyes and she nodded. “All animals are equal.”

“But some are more equal than others,” she finished, watching him open the wilting book and thumb through the yellowed pages.

Mike leaned over and leafed through the rest of the small books in there, admiring her taste.

“1984? A Tale of Two Cities?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at her. “Kind of dark.”

“I find them inspiring,” Eleven told him confidently and she felt the rebellion that stirred inside her wash over her, settling her smile into a frown and filling her eyes with unafraid determination.

“I find you inspiring,” Mike responded smoothly, captivated by her resolute expression and watching it crumble as she processed his words. He carefully placed her books back how he found them and pushed the drawer closed.

“You do?” she asked and he saw the shy, uncertain side of her emerge.

That part of her always puzzled him. When he had first met her he never imagined she could feel insecure in any way. Eleven was the epitome of assertive bravery, of fearlessness. Mike had seen it in her the moment she lifted the couch in the junkyard into the air, when she stormed into his office the night of her first delivery like she could take on the unknown without any reluctance.

Meanwhile, Mike was always second guessing himself. Wondering if he was doing the right thing, wondering if his life was what his grandfather would have wanted, wondering if it was truly the life _he_ wanted. The life of a criminal, a rebel. He didn’t believe the label truly fit him in all his lanky, bushy-haired glory. Mike was a nerd, not a cunning insurgent.

But Eleven was sure in every step she took. She was confident in her abilities, in her choices, in herself. She knew she was on the right path for her life, that her destiny called her to revolution and anarchy. That’s what inspired Mike, that made him wish he was more like her. So when she seemed uncertain it was confusing to Mike. Especially when it was in response to things he said or did or felt. He seemed the only person who was capable of rocking Eleven from her assuredness.

“Of course I do,” he affirmed, his affection bubbling out of him. “You’re amazing. Everything you’ve been through, that you’ve conquered and made your own. You haven’t let a single thing bring you down. And you know who you are and it shows in everything you do. You’re brave and considerate and powerful and loyal and beautiful.’

“You think I’m beautiful?” Eleven looked up at him through her eyelashes, a warm pink colour spreading across her cheeks.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” Mike insisted without any doubt.

Eleven pressed up on her toes, her hands clinging to Mike’s jaw as she brought his face down to hers. She felt him swallow as his hands found her hips and she tilted her forehead against his.

“You inspire me too,” she whispered.

Mike kissed her, his lips plush and warm, and Eleven briefly recalled when she had been impatiently waiting for something like fireworks to happen, that night that she found Mike in distress. She realized that these kisses they shared, his tongue clashing with hers lazily, his teeth grazing her bottom lip, were all as close to fireworks as it could get.

His hands clutched at her side, whether to keep her from floating away or to keep him grounded, she didn’t know. Her fingers weaved into his hair, as always, his locks thick against her palm. Mike’s mouth drifted away from hers, causing a whine to shudder from her throat until his lips were grazing her jaw instead, brushing down the column of her throat and focusing on the spots that made her shiver.

Tangled in the spell of the moment, Eleven found herself aching for more. Her head fell back as Mike nipped along her collarbones, her fingers gripping his biceps and feeling the sinew and slight muscle there. She thought of his body, the brief glance she accidentally at his torso almost a month ago that spurred a tightening in her chest and heat in the pit of her gut. She wanted to see it again, to touch, to label the freckles dotting his skin like a map, leading her to the treasure of his heart.

Mike moved them, twisting around and sitting on the edge of the bed, pressing at the back of Eleven’s knees so she landed in his lap, straddling his hips. She leaned down to join their mouths again and felt his chilled fingers slip beneath her shirt, sliding mindlessly up the skin of her back. With a shiver, she mirrored his movements, her shaking fingers finding the hem of his shirt and delving beneath it, hesitantly pressing her fingertips to the taut flesh there. When they wandered further up, one of his nipples catching on her pinky, Mike stilled and leant back. Eleven kept her hands against his chest, feeling the bellow of his beating heart against the bones of his rib cage.

Mike looked up at her, eyes clouded darkly but glinting with a question. He didn’t say anything, his flushed lips parted but still. Eleven understood the silent inquiry and answered with an encouraging kiss, deep and purposeful.

She reached down, a newfound excitement and confidence brewing within her, and played with the hem of shirt, twisting the fabric between her fingers.

“Can I?” she asked, and it came out so low and sultry she hardly believed it was her own voice.

Mike nodded robotically, eyes stuck on her lips.

Eleven lifted his shirt over his head. His torso was flat, chalky pale, except for the thin patch of curly, dark hair in the centre of his chest, flanked by his nipples, pebbled only slightly and pigmented with a dark, brick red. Her fingers roamed across the expanse, thumbing over his nipples and tugging a little at the short strands of hair. Mike exhaled unsteadily at her touch and her focus flickered reluctantly back up to his face.

“El, I haven’t,” he paused and sighed, casting his gaze downwards, swallowing as his fingers tickled lightly over the waistband of her pants. “I’ve never been with a girl before.”

“That’s okay.” Eleven shrugged, brushing a stray curl away from Mike’s face and grinning happily down at him. “I’ve never been with a boy before.”

Mike hummed and finally met her stare. Eyes warm, soft, rich like chocolate.

Eleven had never viewed her virginity as a big deal or an issue to be dealt with. She never impatiently anticipated the night she first had sex, never imagined there being rose petals or hundreds of candles or any of the things she had read in the bleak romance section of the bookstore. There were too many other more pressing things to think about most of the time.

Eleven found, however, comfort in the idea of sharing that part of her with Mike. Mike who was kind and safe and handsome. Mike who was starting to feel like the closest thing to home she had ever gotten.

And maybe it was because they were about to embark on some dangerous endeavors where anything could happen or because Eleven figured she may never get a better chance than the present. She had had one of the best Christmases in her life, and she decided that sharing something special would be a decent way to finish it off.

“Maybe,” she mumbled, eyes glinting playfully, teeth chewing at her bottom lip. “We could figure it out. Together.”

Mike froze and gaped a little, his eyebrows falling together as he tried to decipher whether she was being genuine or not. Eleven let a giggle slip from her mouth at his expression and rolled her eyes.

“Well?” she prompted.

Mike surged upward, responding with a hot kiss and wandering hands. She moaned a little against his mouth when his tongue moved against hers and she felt herself innately roll her hips forward. He immediately groaned in reply, his fingers stilling, clenching slightly at the back of her shirt. Eleven quickly concluded she enjoyed that sound and everything it implied and carefully rocked against him once more.

Hurriedly, Mike made sure he had permission before practically tearing Eleven’s shirt from her body. Undoing the latch at the back of her bra, his mouth found her breasts, toying and tonguing at her nipples. She huffed out in surprise at how pleasurable it was, the sensitivity of her skin under Mike’s touch and mouth unexpected.

They moved leisurely further onto the bed, despite it being a little too small to fully support two people, and soon Eleven felt Mike reaching for the button and zipper of her jeans. Complyingly, she took the hint and shed the fabric, leaning back against the pillows while Mike loomed carefully over her.

Shortly, they were naked and bare for each other, and Eleven couldn’t find it within herself to feel insecure, not with Mike. Not with the heat of his eyes as they scanned her figure, admiration clear as day on his face. Not with his sturdy hands, roaming her body at first gently and then all at once with insistence. Not with the smile she felt grow on his lips when she whined beneath him, savoring her pleasure.

Eleven felt his hardness at her thigh and sticky wetness collecting at her core, and after his fingers had worked her to a state of complete ease, she urged him onward.

It was pressure. Warm, heavy, filling pressure. Prodding at a sweet, tender spot in an all-consuming way that she didn’t know existed. When she gasped, and Mike stilled, urgently asking if she was alright, she soundlessly latched onto him and urged him again.

Slick sweat built up on his chest and face as they moved together but Eleven didn’t mind, too preoccupied with the stirring deep inside her, the swirling like seas in the pit of her gut. She reached up to move Mike’s hair from his face as it was all falling forward and watched his expression. The twisting and contorting of his appearance as he too dealt with the overwhelmance of the experience. Eleven grabbed his jaw and pulled him down, hoping to convey with her kiss that she thought he might be one of the best people she had ever met. Especially at that moment.

It wasn’t long before a strange wave fell over her, a building of _something_ in her core and her stomach and her head. When she instinctively held her breath it intensified, pressing and pressing against her skull and she felt her face might turn blue. Finally, the earth shattered. Her head was caving in, it seemed, and she felt her legs, her torso, her _everything_ spasm and shake until she exhaled greatly, and her body sunk heavily into the bed and she felt suddenly sober.

A similar wave seemed to cascade over Mike, as his head fell down in the crook between her neck and her shoulder, and soft grunts emanated from his throat, muffled by her hair. Eleven ran soothing hands over his back, along his spine, unable to stop herself from gushing about how good she felt, whispering blissful nonsense, until he eventually shuddered considerably and then settled.

They cleaned up and then wrapped themselves snugly against each other, knotted up clumsily in the bedsheets, Eleven’s back flush to Mike’s chest, his arm wrapped securely around her waist. They muttered sweet compliments and words laden with meaning and emotion into the depths of the night, Mike’s breaths dusting across Eleven’s shoulders and that chypre, boyish smell surrounding her.

Even when the words stopped and Mike’s breathing softened and his arm slackened against her, Eleven’s mind continued to mumble a mantra of _Mike, Mike, Mike_ into the early morning hours.

Things were good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this smut is so vanilla but they're virgins i guess so it makes sense lmao it's kinda funny how i decided to go with a more vague description this time compared to the very first sex scene in my other story which was entirely candid lol
> 
> anyway, like i mentioned before, shit gets real next chapter. so hold on tight, guys.
> 
> as always, thanks for reading, leave a kudos if you liked it, and let me know what you think :)


	11. baby drop them bombs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from 'raise hell' by dorothy 
> 
> ummmm hiii
> 
> this is gonna be a long note so i'll leave a tdlr lmao
> 
> ok so it has been over two months since i updated this thing and while a lot of the time i was struggling with motivation to write it, i was also dealing with a parasite that i picked up in costa rica, getting my wisdom teeth out and then getting a bacterial skin infection, and i've also been getting assessed for a bunch of different mental illnesses on top of that lolz.
> 
> i honestly felt like i might never update this again and then they released the teaser trailer for season 3 and wowza did something come over me. i ended up writing this entire chapter in one day (which is why it might not be super good) and now here it is, out of the blue
> 
> i also basically stopped reading mileven fics while i was gone, so if anyone wants to leave me recommendations for any new ones that came out that i missed you should leave them in the comments for me!!
> 
> tldr; i have a bunch of excuses as to why i disappeared for two months and i wrote this chapter in about four hours so it hasn't been edited and i don't even know if it matches the rest of the story lol. thanks for reading anyway!

There were three photos in front of her.

Letter size, black and white, candid. The subjects were on the street, in the view of the public, getting in or out of cars, surveying their surroundings.

Eleven was surprised Steve was somehow able to pull these off, considering cameras were not easily-accessible equipment, they were included under the ban after all.

“This one is Tobias Jelinek, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff,” Steve began, gesturing to the first photo on the far left.

The man was tall with dark hair and an intense, unsettling focus in his eyes which settled almost perfectly on the lens of the camera, as if he suspected the photographer was there.

“This is Hugh Holub, Secretary of Defense,” he continued, pointing to the middle photo.

This man looked more familiar, his name reminiscent of newspaper articles exploring the country’s choice to bomb various Middle Eastern countries. His head was near bald but a greying beard coated his chin and cheeks. His eyebrows were pinched together, as if in deep thought.

“And this is-“

“Martin Brenner,” Eleven finally spoke, her mouth set in a firm, determined line. “I know who that is.”

An anger surged inside her as she gazed at his image. His hair white and his forehead wrinkled and weathered with age. His nose pointy, a displeased frown etched onto his face. There was evil there in the emptiness of his eyes.

“Right,” Steve nodded, eyeing Eleven’s tight grip on the edge of the table as her gaze remained locked on Martin Brenner. “The president of the United States, Martin Brenner. Anyway, these are the three men who will be present at a top-secret meeting at the Department of Defense a little less than a week from now.”

“Only three?” Eleven asked, finally pulling her eyes up to meet Steve’s.

“Only three,” he confirmed. “They’ll be the only people in the building besides security personnel at 6am sharp, Friday morning.”

“How are we getting inside?”

“You won’t be going inside, only Mike will.”

Eleven looked over, her boyfriend sitting only a few feet away in the circle of chairs, alongside everyone else. Mike gave her a comforting grin.

“Chief Hopper will be staging a pipe leak so that a plumbing technician will have to be called. Mike will be the plumbing technician.”

“The Department of Defense is just going to let any old plumber into the building?’

“No. That’s why Chief Hopper will also be the officer to give Mike clearance into the building and erase the security footage of Mike’s entry and exit.”

“Won’t there be other security guards too?”

“Yes. That’s where Dustin and Lucas come in.”

“We’re going to create a distraction,” Dustin piped up excitedly, rubbing his hands together.

“You think the security at the Department of Defense is really going to be this easy to trick?” Eleven asked, giving Steve a dubious look.

“They won’t even see it coming,” he insisted. “The government has forced most of society into a position where they can’t even afford to take a day off. We must be close to the only ones with access to the weaponry and connections required to even attempt something like this.”

Steve was right. There hadn’t been any major recorded attack on any government buildings in years, almost decades. There was the occasional desperate civilian who tried to set the property on fire, or created a makeshift weapon to wave at the security guards, but nothing serious. Martin Brenner probably didn’t even prepare or expect anything serious anymore. He had the people right where he wanted them.

“Here,” Steve said, pulling out a hand drawn map of the building and the area surrounding it. There were two red X’s marked.

“This,” he pointed at one, “is where the bomb will be planted.”

It was in the middle of the left side of the building, the side closest to an expanse of pavement, a “square,” that became a row of shops and businesses.

“And this,” he pointed to the second one, “is where you will be stationed.”

It was a spot nestled in amongst the stores, around 75 yards from the Department of Defense.

“Once Mike has planted the bomb, this is where he will meet you,” Steve continued.

Eleven nodded. It was straight-forward, for the most part.

“Steve, I have a question,” said Nancy, her arms crossed, and she seemed exasperated.

“Lay it on me,” he shrugged, turning in his seat to face her.

“Is it our intention to kill these people?”

The room of faces seemed to focus altogether on Steve, awaiting his response. While everyone had voiced hesitant agreements to this plan, it was clear that people had their doubts on the morality of it.

“Not necessarily,” Steve replied, scratching at his head casually. “I think we want to send a message. Tell Brenner and his minions that they aren’t as safe as they’d like to think they are, and neither are their positions in the government.”

“So you don’t think this bomb is going to kill them?” Jonathan added, his face twisted in confusion.

“I don’t think it will be powerful enough for that. Minor, maybe major injuries, sure, but no one is going to die.”

The room was silent, the information turning through everyone’s heads. They seemed satisfied with his answers.

“Does anyone have any other questions?” Steve asked, standing up then and surveying his audience. “Because we have a lot of preparing to do.”

Eleven bit her lip, a small knot of nerves was twisting in her stomach. She knew she was ready and she supported the plan, but there was a tiny voice of doubt at the back of her mind.

_No one is going to die_ , she reminded herself. She wouldn’t have anyone’s blood on her hands, the bombing was only a symbol.

The meeting was dismissed, and Eleven didn’t notice she was wringing her hands together until Mike pried one loose and held it delicately in his own hand. She looked up at him and he smiled down at her and it was so reassuring that the inkling of a feeling she had that something would go wrong dissipated and was quickly forgotten.

~ ~ ~

“How do I look?”

Eleven tried not to laugh. Mike was standing before her with his winter jacket on over a pair of blue coveralls they had found in a thrift shop and then proceeded to rub dirt on to make them look more used. He was also wearing a beaten blue baseball cap and huge, dark sunglasses.

“You look like a plumber,” she told him with a smile, reaching out to smooth down his collar.

They were only a couple of blocks away from the Department of Defense. The sun hadn’t risen yet, the sky a blurry blue that felt like isolation, the earth was sleeping, silent. So far they hadn’t even seen another human being, probably because the night shifts still had an hour or two left.

“That’s what I’m going for, so thanks,” Mike grinned, adjusting his shades. She didn’t know how he could even see anything.

The only concerning part of his attire was the large, black backpack strapped to his torso. It didn’t look a lot like a plumber’s toolbox, but that was what Mike would be passing it off as. Normally, Eleven would picture a toolbox to be a red, metal thing, but Mike had thrown some wrenches and screwdrivers in the bag to make it convincing.

“Okay, lovebirds, we’ve only got another ten minutes before we’re supposed to be in position,” Lucas spoke up from behind them, sharing a playful glance with Dustin at his side.

Eleven fought down the flush that tickled at her ears and cheeks and turned away, leading them closer to the square. They passed a couple more buildings and finally the Department of Defense appeared, dark and looming, dominating the area with its presence. It was rather large with multiple stories and extended out to take up almost the size of a football field. It was intimidating.

This was where they parted ways. Mike turned to Eleven, scooping her into a tight embrace and Eleven wished him luck. He was probably what she was most worried about. She didn’t want to think of the possibility of him being arrested or caught and interrogated. The Party knew about the methods the government used when they wanted information from someone, and they were not pretty.

Eleven could feel a slight shake in Mike’s arms as they wrapped around her and she wished there was something she could say to calm his nerves, to tell him that everything would be okay no matter what. But she didn’t want to make any promises like that, promises that weren’t really under her control.

When they pulled away, she mustered up a smile for him. He took a deep breath and returned the smile, and finally, he gestured for the other boys to follow him as they approached the building.

Eleven didn’t stay to watch, following instructions and hurrying away to arrive at her specified location. It would be too far away for her to see anything with her physical eyes, but she knew all she had to do was dive into her mind to make sure Mike was okay.

~ ~ ~

Mike readjusted the straps on his shoulders, briefly looking over at the boys who were mulling around a small way away. They hadn’t told him what their plan was to create a distraction, but he trusted that they would come up with something good. Something stupid, probably, but good enough to keep the guards’ attention for long enough.

He trudged forward, coming up to the sleek glass doors of the entrance. They were surprisingly unguarded, but it was barely past four in the morning, and all of the metal detector machines were inside anyway. Chief Hopper would be waiting inside for him. Hopefully. Mike crossed his fingers.

He pushed inside, immediately trying to take on the posture of a man that was just there to complete some routine plumbing work. Mike subtly scanned the area and noticed four men spread around the initial entryway, clad in black clothing. He didn’t notice any signs of weapons on their persons and felt a bit better about that.

They all turned on their heels to examine the intruder, and Mike froze in place as one of them stepped forward to approach him. He had his explanation memorized and ready to go, sitting on the tip of his tongue as he had rehearsed for the past few nights. But apparently, he didn’t need it as a new figure stepped out, appearing near one of the metal detectors.

“Good morning, Mr. Powell,” the man greeted him. He was a burly guy with a thick brown beard and he could definitely come off as intimidating, but Mike picked up on the softness within the man’s brown eyes. He was wearing similar black clothing, but there was a patch on one of his arms that seemed to suggest superiority.

Mike nodded towards him, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. The men in black surrounding him didn’t seem convinced quite yet.

“At ease, gentleman,” the man, Mike could only imagine was Chief Hopper, instructed them calmly. “He’s just here to fix a leak, routine work.”

They relaxed slightly then, but their eyes remained on him, and he hoped that if they were committing his image to memory that something would come up soon to disrupt their efforts.

Hopper came closer, resting a hand on Mike’s shoulder to lead him towards the metal detectors, beginning to guide him through a small pathway between the machines.

“You aren’t gonna clear him, sir?”

They paused. Hopper sighed and turned back around.

“If you insist, Callahan,” he muttered, and they moved back, standing together before the archway of the grey machine. “Your bag, Mr. Powell.”

Mike swallowed, shrugging the backpack off and handing it over into Hopper’s hands. Then he faced forward and walked beneath the archway. There weren’t any sounds from the device or the security guards to suggest there was an issue, so he turned back to face them.

“Happy?” Hopper asked, directing the question to the guard from earlier.

“His bag, sir,” the man supplied, nodding his head towards the item in Hopper’s arms.

Hopper rolled his eyes and made a show of plopping the backpack on the counter alongside the machine and searching through it. He even found a wrench and pulled it out, showing it to the men.

“Anyone have a problem with a plumber carrying a wrench with him?”

No one responded and Hopper chuckled, putting the wrench back inside and went to zip up the bag.

“May I, sir?” Callahan spoke then, stepping forward and gesturing to the bag. His facial expression was unreadable, but Mike spied a tinge of suspicion. “Just to be thorough.”

Hopper feigned nonchalance, glancing at Mike and shrugging. He went to pass the bag over, the security guard ready to receive it. But then someone else burst through the front doors.

“Help! Help! There’s a crazy man outside!”

It was Dustin, yelling dramatically, huffing and puffing as if he was being chased.

The second that the security guards turned their heads, moving to approach and question the intruder, Hopper shoved Mike’s bag into his arms and shoved him along through the doors that took them into the back of the building.

“You know what to do from here?” the officer asked Mike once the doors had closed behind them.

Mike looked around, slightly overwhelmed by the area before him, many flags and plaques decorating the walls, reaching up to a very high ceiling, a large golden statue and massive reception desk dominating the room.

“Um, yeah, I think so,” Mike nodded, trying to remind himself that the worst part was over now. He had made it inside. It was almost over.

“Alright,” Hopper slapped him on the back jovially, “don’t fuck it up, kid.”

The man took off elsewhere, probably to work on the security footage. Mike watched him go, and then remembered the layout of the building Steve gave him, closing his eyes and visualizing exactly where he needed to be.

He pushed forward into the building.

~ ~ ~

Eleven had found a bench pretty much exactly where the red X had been, almost as if Steve had put it there specifically for her. That’s where she was sitting, nervously awaiting Mike’s arrival.

It had been a half an hour since they parted and she knew she would probably be waiting for another fifteen minutes at least. She tried to think good thoughts, deciding not to seek out Mike in her mind until he had been gone longer than expected.

The square was still quiet, the second stories of the stores, where people lived, didn’t have any of their lights on yet. Everyone was sleeping, blissfully unaware of the events about to take place.

Suddenly, two figures were barreling towards her. Dustin and Lucas were jogging in her direction, out of breath by the time they reached her. She stood up.

“How did it go?” Eleven asked, hoping for good news only.

“Just a minute,” Dustin panted, doubling over, his hands on his knees as he drew in deep breaths.

“Dustin!” she complained.

“It went fine,” Lucas spoke, also panting but looking in better shape than his friend. “Mike got in.”

“Okay, good,” Eleven breathed and then sat back down on the bench. The two boys joined her.

That meant the worst part was over. Mike was probably planting the bomb as they spoke.

“Are you going to wait with me?” she asked the boys, whose breathing was getting back to normal now.

“No,” Dustin shook his head, “we can’t stay in this area too long. Not after the stunt we pulled.”

“If you guys made fools of yourselves, I’m very upset I couldn’t be there to watch,” Eleven frowned, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Very funny,” Lucas deadpanned but gave her a small, genuine smile after.

The boys left a couple of minutes later, bidding her good luck as they went. Now she waited alone for any sign of a lanky, curly-haired boy making his way over to her.

Eleven went from nibbling on her bottom lip to biting at her nails as the time passed, counting seconds as she sat in the yellowed glow of a streetlight.

Finally, a shadow formed a few feet away. A tall shadow with big, wild hair, long limbs and a big backpack. Mike was safe.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Eleven gushed when he was in arm’s reach and he once again scooped her up into a tight embrace. He smelled like dirt and sweat, and she was so happy to see him.

“That was exhilarating,” Mike said as he set her down, a joking grin on his face.

“So it’s done?” Eleven asked.

“Ready when you are, El.”

They settled back onto the bench together and Eleven immediately intertwined their hands. Now they just had to wait for the three men to show up for their meeting. It didn’t really feel like they were about to majorly attack a government building, the way they sat in comfortable silence, stealing fond looks and squeezing each other’s hands. It felt more like a couple waiting to watch the sunrise. And maybe that’s kind of what it was.

An hour later, 6am hit and Eleven closed her eyes to seek out the three men, the subjects, to make sure they were in the building. One by one, she found them. Assembled together in a boardroom with the blinds of the windows up and their voices conspiratorially low even though they were the only ones in the building.

“Okay,” she said, and she felt her gut swell with anxiety. “It’s time.”

Mike took a deep breath, giving Eleven’s hand one last jolt of reassurance. Eleven closed her eyes, reaching within for the image of the bomb, remembering when Mike let her hold it, carefully, that morning so she could memorize everything she could about it.

Then she searched for the energy inside her, the rippling heat she could conjure up and expel outwards, she let it fill her entirely. Her mind then reached inside the pipe, the steel water pipe filled with gunpower, and with an exhale she filled the pipe with heat.

She opened her eyes, knowing it was done, awaiting the explosion in the distance. The left side of the building that faced them was close enough that they could see it clearly, that Eleven could see the woman that suddenly appeared along the sidewalk, tugging a little girl alongside her down the path, directly beside the Department of Defense.

Eleven gasped and stood, panic enveloping her mind, she went to shout, to warn them. A loud bang roared out, and a flash of fire burst from the building, a cloud of smoke in its wake. The building shook and parts of the wall broke, pieces of heavy cement falling down, down towards the sidewalk.

Falling down where the woman and her daughter stood. A billow of dust rose up from the street.

“No!” the scream ripped out of Eleven and she felt her feet moving to take off in their direction.

She had gotten a couple of yards when Mike caught up to her, grabbing her around the middle to stop her from going further. Eleven fought against him, she felt panic overtake her, and then the dust cleared.

The little girl’s mouth was wrenched open in a sob, her body covered in dust and small scratches but free of any major damage. Her mother lay a few feet away, beneath a slab of cement, her blood trickling out and reaching across the ground, spreading like vines.

A single cry rang out from Eleven’s throat before she felt darkness come over her and she slumped against Mike, collapsing in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> like i said before, shit's hitting the fan
> 
> for anyone whos reading the other fic i also haven't updated in two months, im also going to try and work on getting a new chapter for that out in a week! i really don't know how often i will be updating and i figure it might end up being sporadic from here on out but there are only four or five chapters left with this guy so hopefully it's not too bad!
> 
> tldr; as always, leave a kudo if you liked it and let me know what you think!


	12. i can't help this awful energy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from 'control' by Halsey.
> 
> did u guys think i disappeared again? lol sorry updates are probably going to be slow for this story until the end mostly because since i was last writing this i started doing an online course alongside my full-time job so i don't have quite as much time to write.
> 
> anyway, this chapter is sort of short but somehow i feel like a lot happens? thanks for reading!

Everything was a blur. The figures that surrounded her, the place she had been brought to. She barely registered her body being placed into a chair, Max taking the seat beside her and Mike occupying her other side.

The scene just repeated itself in her mind. The explosion that rocked the walls of the building, the body of the mother and the blood that pooled beneath it, the little girl sobbing in agony.

The little girl had been bundled up, a large navy winter jacket that fell down to her knees, a grey toque that covered her head. Eleven couldn’t recall any other features about her besides her red, wailing mouth.

Voices rumbled around her, warped and distorted.

“Eleven? Can you hear me?”

“Can someone please explain to me what’s going on?”

“El, please, say something.”

“Jane, it’s Max, I’m right here. Talk to us, please.”

Eleven blinked, bringing a shaking hand to her face, feeling the sticky wet remnants of her tears there. She looked around, her vision lazily focusing as she took in her company. Max on her left and Mike to her right, both staring at her with concerned frowns. Steve in front of her, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes darting between all three of them as he tried to understand the situation. Dustin, Lucas and Will just slightly behind Steve, arguing quietly amongst themselves and casting worried looks in her direction.

Mike had brought her back to the warehouse, the brazen lights dim above her and the cement cold and grey at her feet. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed, how long she had been in shock for, unable to move or think or breathe consciously. It was all her fault and the responsibility weighed on her chest, crushing like the cement had crushed that mother.

“I killed her.”

The voices around her ceased, six pairs of eyes boring into her. In the pressured silence she heard the pumping of her blood through her veins and the stretching and deflating of her lungs as oxygen continued to filter through them. Eleven felt too alive all at once.

“That girl lost her mother. And it’s all my fault,” her voice felt distant, cracking and raw as it left her bruised throat, the scratchiness redolent of her desperate screams.

Max sighed heavily, grasping one of Eleven’s hands which had been trembling in her lap, and placing her other hand behind Eleven’s head, leading her cheek to rest against Max’s shoulder. She kept crying even though she wasn’t sad. She felt angry and hollow and horrified all at once.

“Mike, can you please enlighten us on what the hell she’s talking about? What happened?” Steve demanded, clearly alarmed by the state that his team member was in.

“Everything was fine,” Mike insisted, his face was pale and his eyes unfocused. “It was all according to plan. I got out of the building and Eleven triggered the bomb and it worked. But then. But then-“

He paused, gulping and taking a deep breath. His gaze fixed to the ground and he wrung his hands together, seemingly struggling to carry on.

Will stepped forward, moving to Mike’s side and settling a reassuring hand to Mike’s shoulder. Mike looked up at him gratefully and his friend nodded, silently urging him to continue.

“There was a mother and a daughter,” Mike explained, soft. “They came out of nowhere, walking down the path next to the side of the building that faced the square. When the bomb exploded, some concrete from the wall must have broken from the impact and fell in chunks to the ground. The mother was killed.”

Steve exhaled, a hand coming up to his hair and tugging at it as he turned and took a few steps away from them, his back facing them.

Max’s hand was rubbing Eleven’s back and she wanted to be soothed by it, to focus on that calming gesture and nothing else. But that seemed to be impossible, too many thoughts of grief and guilt racing through her brain.

“You said no one would die,” she said, sniffling, her eyes on Steve’s back. He spun back around.

“No one was supposed to die,” Steve asserted, his eyes wide with urgency.

“It was an accident, El,” Mike added, his voice gentle as his arm reached for her arm closest to him, rubbing circles into her skin with his thumb.

“It was my fault,” she repeated, her voice firm.

The entire group chorused with refusals of that theory, talking over each other in their efforts to convince her otherwise. It bombarded her ears like static, white noise.

“I set off the bomb,” Eleven continued, ignoring them, her face pressed into the fabric of Max’s shirt, muffling her words. “And now the same thing that happened to me happened to that little girl. She’s going to grow up without her mother. And she’s going to wonder if she should have done something different or how her life would be different if she hadn’t died. And she won’t get to share anymore special moments with her mother and she won’t get anymore motherly advice. And she’ll always wonder why that had to happen to her, why it had to be her life that got torn apart.”

Everyone except Max was gaping at her, unsure of what to say as she broke down before them, her usually brave façade crumbling. Max just listened, quietly stroking Eleven’s hair.

“El, if she’s anything like you she’s going to turn out fine even without her mother,” Mike spoke up boldly after a moment, moving marginally closer towards her, desperate to help her feel better.

“You think I turned out fine?” she lifted her head from Max’s shoulder and set her jaw, staring Mike down. He stared back at her in shock, surprised by the darkness of her voice, the coldness in her eyes. “I want to punish the man that took my mother away from me. That’s all I’ve cared about since I found out the truth, that’s my purpose. If that little girl turns out like me, she’s going to want to punish me. And I’ll deserve it.”

“You don’t deserve it. That girl will know that it was an accident, that the bomb wasn’t meant to kill her mother.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m no better than Brenner now.”

“Eleven,” Steve spoke, his tone demanding of her attention. “Martin Brenner is responsible for thousands, maybe millions of deaths both here as well as overseas. He doesn’t care. You _do_ care, as you should, and you’ve only accidentally hurt one single person. You’re still infinitely better than Brenner.”

“Two people,” Eleven disagreed, hung up far too much on the details of the situation. “I hurt the little girl too.”

“She’s going to be okay, El,” Mike insisted, his eyes pleading the side of her face to turn, for Eleven to return his gaze, for her to believe him.

“You don’t know that.” She shook her head, determinedly avoiding any sort of glance in his direction. “I shouldn’t have been there, that shouldn’t have happened. And I can’t let anything like that happen again.”

“What are you saying?” Steve asked, his words slow, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I can’t – I won’t – I have to leave the Party.”

The room was deafeningly silent, only the buzz of electricity and the crying of the wind, pushing against the outside of the building could be heard.

“Okay.” Steve nodded. He was solemn but resigned. “If that’s what you feel is best.”

“What? No,” Mike argued, his eyebrows fallen together, his hand still gripped tight around her arm. “El, this was just an accident. A mistake. You can’t let one mistake get in the way of everything we’ve fought for, everything you want.”

“This is not what I want,” Eleven snapped, recoiling from his touch. “Innocent people will not die because of my actions. No life is worth more than any sort of vision for the future that this organization has.”

“We don’t want people to die either, that’s not what I meant,” Mike mumbled, crumbling into himself as he saw this girl, this woman that he cared so deeply about relapse back into a hardened shell.

“It’s not about what you wanted anymore,” Eleven pushed on, ignorant of the pain her words were causing him. “It’s about what you’re choosing. And you’re choosing to believe that it’s okay if innocent lives are lost in your efforts to revolutionize the country.”

“I’m sorry, El.” Mike took a deep breath, hoping against hope that his honesty wouldn’t cause him to lose one of his only remaining beacons of strength. “But if hurting a few people means that a million others will be able to live free and comfortably, then I’m willing to make that sacrifice.”

“Then I guess I’m leaving you too, Mike.”

Her words were final, absent of any room for argument. She finally looked at him, then, and besides the tinge of sadness that pricked at the corners of her eyes, there was nothing but a void in the depths of her gaze.

“El, please -,” the meaning of her statement dawned on him with a painful blow to his chest and stomach, a cold torrent sinking over him.

“I’m sorry,” she replied, her voice strangely hollow. “But I think it’s what’s best for both of us.”

Eleven stood, turning on her heel and heading towards the door. Max followed hastily after her, casting Steve a look that assured him that she would be coming back even if Eleven wasn’t.

Mike stood too, ready to pursue them, but Dustin landed a hand to his shoulder, grounding him.

“Don’t,” he instructed, tone soft and wise. “Just give her some space.”

“It’ll be okay,” Lucas added, coming to Mike’s side as well, trying to summon a comforting grin.

Will approached too, and the three surrounded Mike with support, exchanging glances with each other and willing for everything to turn out fine while Mike just stared longingly towards the doors, his gut engrossed with dread.

“Wait,” Steve drawled, squinting towards Mike. “You guys were together?”

~ ~ ~

As soon as Eleven arrived back at home, unlocking the door and allowing Max to follow behind her into the apartment before closing the door shut behind them, she flung herself onto her bed. She pulled her pillow close, her back facing Max, prepared to soak the fabric with her sobs.

Max sank into the space beside her, her hand on her shoulder, gently massaging the area. She had been silent at the warehouse because she knew Eleven well enough to know that she was not one to be reasoned with or comforted with words when she was upset. In Eleven’s mind, there wasn’t anything anyone could say to justify what had happened at the square, what had happened to that woman and to that little girl. Max knew the best way to be there for her friend was just to listen and let Eleven feel.

“I feel like a monster,” Eleven whimpered, eyes screwing shut as tears leaked over their seams.

“I know,” Max sighed, wishing she could convince Eleven otherwise but aware that she was too stubborn to believe anyone else. “But I don’t think you are.”

“Normal people aren’t able to kill people and destroy families and deploy bombs with their minds. If that doesn’t make me a monster, I don’t know what would.”

“Your abilities don’t make you a monster, you’re just – you’re just special.”

“No. They were made to hurt people. I was made to hurt people. I’m just surprised it’s taken so long for it to happen. I was born a monster.”

“Eleven, you are so much more than those powers. You could probably go the rest of your life without using them and it wouldn’t change who you are. You’re my smart, funny and super stubborn best friend and your abilities are never going to change that.”

“I guess I just wish sometimes that I wasn’t born this way. That I could be normal.”

“I know. Just remember that there are still good things you can use your telekinesis for. You control your abilities and you can use them to your advantage, not the other way around.”

“Okay,” Eleven sighed, her breaths becoming steadier as her tears began to cease and her thoughts began to calm. “But you shouldn’t call me that anymore.”

“What? Eleven?”

“Yeah.” She rolled over to face her redheaded friend, still curled up with her knees reaching to her chest. “I’m just going to be Jane again. I’m not a member of the Party so there’s no point in calling me that.”

“Alright,” Max agreed, looking down at her. “You really are leaving then?”

“I can’t just accept what happened,” Jane explained. “I can’t attend those meetings and just pretend that an innocent person didn’t die because of our choices. I need to mourn and grieve. I can’t let that woman’s death be forgotten.”

“Okay.” Max nodded, gently squeezing her shoulder. “But what about Mike?”

Jane hesitated, her eyes drifting from Max’s, her face falling thoughtful.

“I think I was right when I thought he was a distraction,” she said, her voice cracking involuntarily. “I just got too caught up in him. I trusted that what he wanted was best, that everything would be alright as long as he was around. I was wrong. I lost focus and I should have been more careful with the bombing.”

“I don’t know,” Max sighed, disappointed by her friend’s response. “I think he’s really good for you. He mellowed you out, somehow.”

“It’s unrealistic to think we could have had anything real in this environment, in our situation. We would have lost each other eventually. It just happened earlier than expected.”

“I really hope you change your mind, Jane,” Max said surely but softly, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Jane’s ear, smiling sadly down at her. “He cares a lot about you.”

 “I know he does,” Jane hummed, her eyes falling shut as Max stroked her hair. “But that’s not going to fix what happened today. I don’t think anything will.”

Max held back another sigh, feeling absolutely disheartened that her best friend was giving up perhaps one of the most meaningful things she had experienced. She could see that Mike and Jane connected on a deeper level, that they were joined by something special beyond anything easily comprehensible. Max had to trust that the ambiguous force that originally brought them together would work its magic once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sad!eleven. unfortunately, things are going to continue to get worse before they get better and i hope you guys don't hate me for the next part. i don't know if anyone's noticed the 'major character death' warning yet, ahem. i would say it's more minor than major but still. you guys'll see.
> 
> leave a kudos if you liked it and let me know what you think! (hint: the more lovely comments that people leave, the faster i will probably write the next chapter lmao)


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